A Raven once sang the whispers of Lenore,
over the Pallas bust beside the door,
the scorpions Ran Ezekiel’s course
and the nightingale cried itself hoarse.
Alice rode in on jabberwocky’s back,
Mad hatter’s spoke of nothing but hats,
The snitch escaped into the telephone booth,
as Maleficent stole Rapunzel’s tooth.
Fiction, with its gnarled snares,
did entice me once to new despairs,
what happiness was mine, but in words galore
my life I’ll live there, forever more.
the rustic eyes from words withdrew,
as you walked into view.
would I ever care for the fiction’s store?
the Raven cried,