The Crow

The crow sat quiet on his perch

To watch the lost walk toward the church.

The men of hay sewn for the field

Do not know why the lost are here.

 

The Crow heard quiet as they kneeled

Now crying loud their sins be healed.

He floated slowly to the ground.

In soft slow time their fates were sealed.

 

A chilling snow fell all around,

And inch by inch, and pound by pound

The snow had took over the town.

They always thought peace would be found

 

But hell had come to settle down.

Their God had gone and so they frown

And who was left to take the crown?

And who was left to take the crown?

Reviews

[tuvi]

this work looks like have been written from a faint memory of something that was witnessed on a chilly winter Sunday morning ..... I might be wrong in what I just guessed ....but it was one of the thought that popped my head on reading this poem ....

neatly written with clear precise choice of words....

you are good at your write-ups :)

[Shawn Purcell]

That's precisely the image I intended to evoke so I'm glad it came across as a dreary Sunday morning scene.

[tuvi]

wow ..I'm I could relate to it :)