Crow (an original poem)

Curves paved away in the blurring nights pace
They cruised a low rumbling on and so on
That silence made quick to consume her place
And he drove on with her, and he drove on alone

An ethereal crow soon scratched at the glass
In attempt to ignore, he looked towards the girl
And he kissed in that moment, it lingered, and passed
But the crow lingered longer, the crow lingered more

His eyes were swift stolen from earthy road glaring
The scratching and flapping and squawking and staring
Their swaying attention, made cromulent crows
Enticingly lovely as fire and smoke

His soul have been stolen
And born in the night
The crows had been known to him
All of his life
Risen by oblivion
And taken by flight
He squawked and he stared and he scratched and he flapped
And he stared to the boy who stirred him through the glass

           -And-

Maybe in another life, he said
As they slowly slipped into second gear
And both could hear him mutter under cover of a light breath
Maybe in another life, he said