And then I asked the interference
What perils a day could bring the year
Yet then two was too much
I lost my weary coherence
I embraced the curtains of the stage of fear
And they refused to watch
What I fancied was my best appearance
Seemed too small to touch me near
I wondered about great joys and such
Puzzled I struggled to gain adherence
Onto a veiled cliff of three smiles upon a tear
Still the flying man I assumed was Dutch
I asked the interference, but no response I gained
Still the question dwelled, I ask myself ere now:
Who is merely poor, the raven, be it dove?
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