The dark Raven

Once i had a little dream,

which kept me up for days to come

I sat perched up on my bed

Thinking both day and night

What was my dream, you ask?

Ah, it was frightful, i say,

For i saw a raven which

Sat on the golden windowsill

As it did, it stared, so keen,

With its beady black eyes,

which were as dark as the blackest nights

No light in which to gleam inside

So i tried the light on my desk

To glimpse it even better then,

Oh, but of course!

The light, it would not at all, shine on.

I weeped and shrieked, so loud,

Oh the light, it was flawed!

For it flickered so wildly,

and, i remembered then,

Oh, but it has been always so!

And i knew, yet i cried.

Afraid, i cried out,

For then, in it flew

And it landed not so far,

from my very very hair,

And he, with his golden beak,

nuzzled my lovely hair

And i sat so very still

As to not scare it away,

Until, then it flew away,

But not before mking the noise

That ravens always make,

cawing and croaking to say:

'Goodbye, my dear

Maybe we'll meet again right here

And i will be in your gentle heart,

Eched as if a scar in your innocent mind

Perched right there, right here

On your golden windowsill.'

And then i woke, startled,

For my heart sang so loud, 

I thought one would hear,

And then, there sat on the windowsill,

A raven as black as night.

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