The Dark Crow
A cross stands alone in a field of stones,
Where the crow sits and waits,
For another soul and their bones.
For days the crow sits and pace,
As the sun fall and the moon rise,
The crow sits quietly on the cross,
Until he felt another soul die.
Up into the dead skies of frost,
The crow flies and search,
For the soul which died in Saint John's Church.
A cross stands alone in a field of stones,
Where the crow sits and waits,
For another soul and their bones.
Lily Yuen
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