The Crow

Kindest friends I know

She once asked me, “Why do you keep such a damned bird?”
A crow, my friend from his birth
Has ever since,
Remained on his ever perch.
“He is my friend since he began,” I said.  “It is how I hope he remains til each our own end.”
Beguiling is his voice and to the eyes just the same.
His colors elude death and evade likeness without reason to blame.
There he remains, soothing with every reminder,
Upon his perch, a trusted reminder.
She asked of me another, “Why not a name for one: as such a friend?”
I wonder the day when my steps towards him would give cause for him to turn away.
But never comes.
“He leaves me pause, without time to reconsider,” I smiled at the oh-so friendly reminder.
“He be stills a pride, the most worthy kind.  Neither day nor night, folly thru plight, sun through rain, ashes from past burnt delights… he carries an eye, with unquestioned loyalty in mind.  So there he sits where I need him the most; loyal to his perch.  His kindness does not burn through eyes or shade of voice.  He is a friend and he is always upon perch, when I need him the most.”

Reviews

[Bacchus]

interesting writes will read more when I have time...
a crow- forever on a perch...
sounds like he's glued to the ground
wounded... sad and yet useful out of the skies.
you've probably tamed him-
it is why he is a friend.