A crow flew to me, kept it’s distance
Such a proud creation
I saw it’s soul, envied it’s pride
But needed nothing it hadAn owl came to me, old and wise
Pierced right through my youth
I learned it’s ways, envied it’s sense
But needed nothing it hadA dove came to me, had no fear
It rested on my arm
I touched it’s calm, envied it’s love
But needed nothing it hadA swan of white, she came to me
The lake mirrored her beauty sweet
I kissed her neck, adored her grace
But needed nothing she could give

Spooktober
Spooktober 29 – The Black Monk (4)
Chapter 7 One long winter night Kovrin was lying in bed, reading a French novel. Poor Tanya, who had headaches in the evenings from living in town, to which she was not accustomed, had been asleep a long while, and, from time to time, articulated




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