To wisdom that suggests this verse I may write,
Over and over, I heard, as crows, sang my name
I witness their presence assist the ocean’s might
While musing, on their stories, decades of fame.
Believe woe is ephemeral but then everything is
When our souls have learned love’s pang to bear
Can not think of a thought not wrapped with his
Oh, even more, when a murder of crows, appear.
With arms, outstretched, fear I am, barely afloat
While death, above impatient, to mount and ride
The crows, they observe me as I moored my boat
Beseech so as to why, my verse is barren of pride.
The waves, beryl and billowing, soon die away
As feverish dreams that bloom, wilt and decay
Photo credits: Pinterest
Form: Shakespearean Sonnet
Posted for Poems in April @ Real Toads
Posted on Open Link Night @ dVerse Pub