That eerie black eye watches on from afar,
My wild squawks in the night, your dreams they will scar,
Perched close to your window sits this harbinger of death,
Almost willing you near, as I steal your last breath.

No heavenly song as I scream out my caw,
On flesh I will feast, and I like its taste raw,
A shiny black plumage and sharp pointed beak,
A scavenger by nature, as more death I shall seek.

Perched on a church roof, or even gravestone,
My demonic wild calls, chill right through to your bone,
Many myths, fables, legends claim in just here to scare,
But whenever there’s death, you can bet I’ll be there.

Shown fearsome in film and immortalised in verse,
Am I really that fearful, or is this my curse?
Of diminutive size and of moderate powers,
It’s oft claimed that I’m found in the smallest of hours.

A poet called Poe, scared the world with my cousins,
You call us a ****** when you see us in dozens,
A proverb it claims, that you may want to stone me,
And that death will come calling if I’m sat here all lonely.

With a cousin of beauty, I’ve a family that’s vast,
Yet for some sad strange reason, as the villain I’m cast,
Can you tell what I am?  Have you guessed? Do you know?
It’s quite obvious of course, I am simply The Crow!*

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2014