A raven's song
~a_raven_song
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A raven flew across the wasted lands,
ripe with traps and siren calls -
who sang of sweet unknowns,
'let us know! let us know! - we want your soul to own!'
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And when the night it came at last,
a twinkling light he saw so far.
Oh, how it spoke with white candour
of a place to rest, of a place to chant - somewhere to land.
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With hurried flight he dived the night,
a blur, of midnight sky.
The light, it grew so fast;
a pub! Upon this wretched land?
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The windows lit, a full locale!
where patrons drank and people sang.
Upon the door, in runes of old - the Midnight Pub.
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But no! Entrance barred,
for those who come from afar.
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Sorrow embraced the raven,
who began a silent ode,
of his travels - and of his woe.
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'Far I've flown and much I've seen,
but never saw a brightest light - so pristeen.
So I swear upon the winking stars
and by the lunar imps' mischief,
I will comply and I will behave,
I will follow this pub's etiquette.'
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With a heavy *clack*, the door swung open,
the Midnight's owner made his choice.
With a wide smile and clear voice
the crow - began a serenade.