The Crow

Down, down rain falls on a forgotten nest;
The crow’s call stolen from his breast.
I will go quietly with your bones.

Going dark upon the meadow
Lengthening of the shadow.
I will be ashes under the trees
While he flies far, far away
To twilight upon the farther seas.

Will you soar back to me
When my seasons wilt silently?
Would you ever lay by my side
To tell me forever is not goodbye?

In your wings, I like to see the dew,
Should I sleep under stars with you.
If there was no one left but us,
I wouldn’t go back to the way life was.

I want to hear your call and cries,
In what remains of the skies.
I would go with you to the end
If I could go to Heaven,
If I could go to Heaven
And if I only could fly.

© 2019 Marten Hoyle