On the subject of Crow

I woke up morose

Then I wrote a new haiku,

Not really that good

LMAO

Crow

Hard to lament loss

When you are not even sure

You deserved to win

My whiskey-voiced Angel
No longer speaks to me,
She only flits in and out
Of my mind's eye
Leaving footprints and tears
In her wake.

What a strange kind of love this is

That lingers after hope has died,
Not letting go or giving up
In spite of failure and of pride,