A raven's song

~a_raven_song

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!'

-

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.

-

With hurried flight he dived the night,

a blur, of midnight sky.

The light, it grew so fast;

a pub! Upon this wretched land?

-

The windows lit, a full locale!

where patrons drank and people sang.

Upon the door, in runes of old - the Midnight Pub.

-

But no! Entrance barred,

for those who come from afar.

-

Sorrow embraced the raven,

who began a silent ode,

of his travels - and of his woe.

-

'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.'

-

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.