The Creature

A poem based on the theme of 'mystery'. Any feedback appreciated!

The sound that left the raven’s beak
Was a cold and empty tune,
The starless sky was a black canvas
For the sad and lonely moon,

A creature sat upon a rock
He’d been waiting for a while,
With his eyes fixated forwards
And his lips in a strange smile,

Hours more began to pass
But still he did not move,
Though his bony back began to ache
He had something to prove,

The night grew old and weary
And soon the horizon glistened,
Under the young sun of the morning
The creature sat and listened,

But all was still and silent
Not a single sound was heard,
Even the raven’s song was gone
He had grown to like that bird,

When he knew he was alone
And that no-one had appeared,
His striking wings spread open
He was a sight that many feared,

His dark eyes flashed with danger
And, voice laced with joy, he said,
“I kept my word, but they did not”
And with that, he turned, and fled. ​