Angels and Crows

The Angels and the Crows.
Till the ends of a rotten timber porch.
All sat in wait with formal rows.
A new day lit up in ease like a petrol torch.
Mama woke to kiss the black rose.
So as the character chose.
Well this is how the story goes.
Open swings the front door.
Granny is done with the filthy demonic hoes.
Ready for a new life, no matter how hardcore.

In the summer blue sky.
The yearns cry.
No, they weren't shy.
The crows start to sore.
Trembling bass from the floor.
With a new life they had bore.

Whispers chanting.
One love and joy.
Nothing more.