The morning sun rode bright and strong in the bluest sky that was ever seen.

The gentle breeze blew through the leaves of summertime in glorious green.

 

The sweetest tunes of songbirds rang through rolling hills and meadows gay.

Rivaled by the melodious sound of children laughing while at play.

 

A day of promise, of things begun; a day when all the world seemed new.

Yet in the shadows where no one saw, a raven over a hilltop flew.

 

On a branch it perched looking over its prize, knowing the time to feast was near.

The world was drunk on beauty and joy; and as I lay dying, there was no one to hear.

 

The silvery moon graced the starlit sky, as exquisite day became heavenly night.

And as lovers enveloped themselves in sweet bliss not a soul, not a one sensed something not right.

 

On the day that I left, the world carried on.

Never scathed, never changed, never ceasing its song.