Behind the glass abides a sorrow soul,

And a gossamer snow to mask his beak

But in his world he stays, crows- NEVERMORE

What worlds away they’re unknown...will he seek?

His kin, the jockey, brings the promise land

Alas stamped below reads “Made in China”

This fabrication he cannot withstand,

Shoot for the pole! Or breathe Carolina~

Then a cryptic recollection ceased makes

Perhaps…phantasy surpassed the true run…

But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

It’s the north, and aurora is our sun!

That glimmering flare of “What if!” unfurled-

He lanced to escape from his perfect world