Once in the drizzly morning haze,
A sight so strange attracted my gaze
I flew down to a street lamp burning near
'Twas the only one lit, left shining here
Dozens of ravens, plumes as black as the night
Were staring so intently, it caused me great fright
The object of their obsession, the thing of desire
Was a shriveled French fry, not much to admire
Then why, you ask, were the birds just staring?
Because this fry, a hand was bearing
A hand was bearing, and if the fry tossed,
Nevermore would there be sharing
The grimy man that obtained it smiled
And in his eyes was a look so mild
A look of joy, for he was homeless and poor
And I thought they looked very silly indeed
But within my chest a hunger was growing, yet nothing more than a seed!
The plumed birds watched as the fry was raised
From the McDonald's bag so worthy of praise
The hunger in my soul grew for that fry
A wild passion thrived in my blazing eye
For, being a bird, had a never touched
A human's food; I longed for it so much!
But alas, the fry by a human was devoured
Burning through my core
And the old man smiled and winked,
"Nevermore."