by Joshua Coffman
Soft, cool breezes shuffle through the doorway.
A lover on the patio drinking
In the perfume of spring while here I lay,
Transfixed, my attention, What is this Thing?
Three more hours 'til my demise would begin.
Pain etched into the walls of this damned cage
But here on earth there was no sign of sin;
White curtains swaying on my wall, no rage.
Still looked I, fearful I was, though calmer
Than the whirlwind soul outside my brown door.
Eyes could not avert, my heart beat faster:
The Thing I always wanted and sought for.
A raven sought refuge in my small home.
Its black bead eyes sought no where else to roam.
poem, poetry, sonnet, elizabethan, shakespearean