Cold Lonely Nights Of The Raven

Cold nights I read from your tome of ravens,

Lore lost to time that has not but forgot,

I hear moans of death and rapping of graves,

A rap and tap my chambers Iron wrought,

For now hear my dreaded loathsome beholder,

A bodice laid to waste in fallen ashes,

Fire cracks and flesh burns with a great smolder,

That great rapping and taping of old gnashes,

Down the hill taken to a man in black,

Lovely flames consumed the spark in you ‘

Into abyssal eyes of this jack ‘

Blue smeared shades through a red lit darkness hue,

Alas I awaken but cold in sweat,

Hid under my covers in queer fret ‘

-
C. Gunnyon