"A mountain stands before us." Lies the crow.
"No way here or there, we'll surely die. "
The boy gathers hope and tells the crow, "we'll go over."
Over they did go.
Over the mountain and around the goats, to a small, deep river.
"Shall we wade?" Squawked the crow.
"If it it is too deep, we'll float." Stated the boy.
And they floated across the river.
At this point the crow was getting angry.
This boy was thwarting his plan to kill the boy with hazards.
"I'll have to use my claws." Thought the crow.
Though the crow never thought again, for the boy was onto his plan.
The boy, at night, slit the crow's throat in it's sleep.
In the end, the evil crow lost.
YOU ARE READING
A Means to an End: Poetry, Ramblings, Rants and Lyrics by Cody Bourque
PoetryWhatever I decide to write outside of "Losing My Faith" or whatever else I'm writing.
