Cold is not at home*
Oh raven, oh raven
What is that to which you are craven
Seeing the winter with its cold arctic air
The winds they doth blow
Frozen all round, only grows
No escape from here to there
A mask to hide from
But cannot be done
Lest ye not be well aware
So go out, seek and find
To be in another state of mind
And hope of comfort comes in your lair
Dom*Colucci © 2015
The image is from Google images.
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