Once I was a raven slacking, when I thought that I’d go thwacking,
Beholden to a long-forgotten promise I could not ignore.
Soon I heard a distant mumbling of somebody softly grumbling
That someone outside was tumbling, tumbling on his treacherous door.
I thought it strange the words he spoke, grumbling ’bout his treacherous door –
But still I thought, I would implore.
It was in the dead of winter and I had just got a splinter,
Knocking in the shadow of the dreams that had come once before.
Wistfully, I longed for summer, but instead I played a drummer,
Drumming as the newest comer, comer that sought to implore
For the days of gold and amber that I lost but still adore –
Days I lost but still adore.
How the whistling wind was whipping frozen feathers, boldly nipping,
Chilled me – willed me with an urge so strong…
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