The Roving Crow by Joe Fielding 06-23-10© Once upon her lonely hear. She sit’s alone in the park. She see's the greyest cloud. Rolling over her head, and.  Their flies a crow my friend. Lands down and with a grin. It look's at her. She knows she will never reach the end of this day. Today was meant for pain not to prosper. She will die, and no one's wiser. And tho we will find are way. She will not see the end of this day. Woo, ooo, ooo ,ooo Ew, With the crack of thunder baby. You, fall to your knees. With the flutter of the crow. Hovering over you. Your sole passes far. Like gas seeping from. The darkness of a dead rotting body. That no one, ever seen it coming. They all cried. At your funeral they cried. Looking at you in your casket. Made of, sad lies and nothing more. They just can't imagine whats the score. Your dead and they have nothing. To hold on, to right now. With rove, the roving crow, he flies away, with a grin on his chin!