Poems from Elsieebob
"Oh dearest, my sweetest!
You must tell me now,
What causes the furrows
A-rest on your brow?"
And I say, "I prithee our time do meet soon...
Miraculous pity isn’t it so?
Gingerly anticipation!
My gloved hands pulsing, to know…to not know…
Tails lack an end of extermination....
Behind the glass abides a sorrow soul,
And a gossamer snow to mask his beak
But in his world he stays, crows- NEVERMORE
What worlds away...