A Raven sits alone
So cold you'd think its stone.
The superstitious run and hide,
Thier fear of death much too high.
And though he seems insane,
And unshaven man rest on a bench below the Raven's perch,
And told it a tale of a man once clean shaven.
He tells the Raven with a hollow tone,
How the man used to walk head up high,
Not a speck of devastation in his eyes.
How the man thought he had it all,
Riches, power, and fame.
But one day, walking the cobblestone street,
The man saw a girl, he just had to meet.
She wasn't beautiful and posh in the eyes of society,
But the man saw that she was an angel.
He told the Raven how the man won her heart,
How once together they were never apart.
He told the Raven how she became the man's wife,
How they were both so content with life,
He smile then, his eyes swelling with tears.
Then he told the omen of death.
How the woman's heart beat left her chest.
He spoke the words she whispered before parting,
His eyes dark and wet.
And cheeks stained by tears,
He told the Raven how the man lost all hope.
How the man now sits,
On a bench in Maine, telling a Raven, the omen of death, his sorrowful tale.
His voice full of grief he tells the Raven
"I pray you will be my omen"
He spoke with heavy heart that he missed his angel,
He wished only to be reunited with her.
And with that, his tale came to an end.
And the unshaven man layed to rest his head
And finally rejoined his angel they said.