Cherry Tree

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A sleek crow flitting through the breeze,
Young and powerful he glides through the sky,
Spots a black form and descends to the trees,
He plants himself on a branch beside a raven.
An old raven sitting true on the bark,
Ruffled feathers spread wide,
Beautiful brilliant and so dark,
With souls of lovers past,
Floating through his amber eyes.
The young crow asks his elder
"Why is that you do not fly?"
The old raven silently ponders this,
Then shifts his gaze and sighs
"I no longer can move around so,
My soul is too tired, my wings too old.
I must stay and defend the tree."
The crow recoils, then inches forward,
"Is there any way that I can help?
I am a young and able bird."
The raven shifted uneasily,
Eyes darting back and forth,
He watched the crow suspiciously.
"How do I know you intend to help me?"
He cackled surely "Aha! I'm sure you mean,
To kill me and to take my tree."
The crow scowled and snapped at the frail thing,
"I care not for a silly cherry tree,"
He nodded for the ravens gaze to follow.
"Come fly, I'll stay. You have my word."
The ravens brow raised, "You're sure?
Brave and strong, not a coward?"
"Yes, yes, begone old friend,"
Replied the crow. "With all my life,
This tree I shall defend,
With all my strength, to the very end."
Seeming satisfied,
The raven stretched it's wings,
Jumped, plummetted, and took flight.
For hours he soared through the wind,
The gleam of a hunter in his eyes,
Majesticly he flew long into the night,
Then coasted back to his beloved tree.
The young crow extended it's velvety feathers,
"Tell me now, I implore you,
Why this tree seems to adore you."
The raven gazed up at the moon,
"Very well now," he called out,
"Come close and I'll tell you this secret,
You must swear on your every plume,
The second I speak it you shall forget."
The crow leaned in quickly,
Through the twilight's gloom,
Unfortunately this spelled out,
The young birds ultimate doom.
As he drew closer to inspect,
The raven opened up his mouth,
Latched on with all his might,
He broke the crows shapely neck.
Feeding from his corpse you see,
The raven mumbles to himself:
"Nobody steals my tree."