The Crow

Wed, 05/23/2018 - 12:32 -- T.Cohen

A crow sits on a swingset

The winter sun goes down

Lonely cries of crows

Become the only sound

A keyboard clicks

Crows keeping time

Meaningless words

That strain to rhyme

A metronome

Swings to and fro

Staying with the

Cawing crow

Crayons break

In child’s grasp

The lonely crow

Gives one last gasp

The last of daylight

No more gleaming

Children grow and

Cease their dreaming

The crow flies low

And out of sight

Entering into

Its own night


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