The Raven
Death flew past yesterday
With a raven's velvet wingspan
And the croaking voice
That gripped tight round my heart.
He turned and wheeled about me
But his eyes, unflinching cold
Lit on some other mortal,
Scorning me.
Today the air's like glass,
So cold it's almost solid
An icy blade
That slices down my spine.
But the clear blue frozen sky
Bears not the imprint
Of the raven's heavy wingbeat overhead.
Today I'm walking tall,
Despite the omen
I'm here to tell the tale.
Jan 23rd 1998
Last updated March 1st 2004
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