Black Wings Like Old Hands

Another poem for Raven and about Raven.


Black Wings Like Old Hands

His hands were big
Wrinkly and he had that
Wise old twinkle
He told me to write
He made me promise to fulfill my dreams

Those old hands withered from
Me, those old hands withered
And he was no longer

Then Black Wings like
An Umbrella came over
And tipped himself over
Black Wings like old hands
Gave me admiration and gave me courage

Black Wings like Old Hands
Withering from me
And yet I can do nothing

I reach for you Old Hands
I fly for you Black Wings

But Black Wings
You have the power to come back
Black Wings you can get over this
I wouldn't admire you if I didn't know
You couldn't

So Black Wings don't become
Old Hands