The Crow

A colorful forestland, one little crow as yellow chimes

and silver in the whole entire mix, he landed onto the

uproarious cripple tree branch, his peak was medium and

bright, his tiny feet was orange colored like a river it float

as smooth and steady like a single storm front, when he

flies among the streams of the river, until the golden sun

was uprising, it let the sunlight into a crow as human form

in the wondrous path of goodness out there, he got the

magical smiles upon this day, his heart beating like a rainstorm

and rainfall or down poured nonstop, he dances on the hippest

grooviest forestland, he was wearing his magnificent cape

made of daffodils all around, the crown he truly wear filled with

white and red daisies, his love can be young and vibrant, he still

be the crow in life in the wilderness

Written by

Michael James Brindley

6-19-15