The Raven

The raven black as night,
Squawks his promise of nevermore.
A love burning bright,
Flowers for his great Lenore.

The black graveyard born to life,
Ghosts of days past take flight.
Memories cut the heart like a knife,
Lenore bleeds in the dull moonlight.

The raven cloaked in coat and hat,
Brings flowers to the graveyard door.
Then upon the tombstone sat,
The black bird carved above “Lenore.”