A Murder of Crows.

by on February 16, 2014 :: 0 comments

We jumped into the deep well
I was looking for love
He wanted water.
Then came a murder of crows
Ready for a slaughter
Squatted round and round
Uttering inane laughter
Found the love I was after
In the madness of his lips
He praised my curving hips
Madness found its level
In that deep deep well.

editors note:

Is one quenched fair requite? Crows know; it’s better if both or wells run dry. – mh

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