The Raven And The Crows Poem by Thea Pound

There's just something about him,
Turns heads wherever he goes;
Well, can't you tell the difference,
Between the Raven and the Crows?
He's nothing like as tattered,
Even when he plays rough,
Still has all his feathers,
Still talks just as tough.

But he's an air of grace,
Though he's no bird in cage,
Lacks the voice of a nightingale,
But he still takes to the stage.
His elegance unmatched,
When he takes to the skies,
But they try to clip his wings,
So rarely now, he flies.

His plumes are not as dull,
As his rougher counterparts,
And though he never loves,
He always captures hearts.
But he's losing his charm,
As his need for freedom grows;
Can you tell the difference,
Between the Raven and the Crows?