Raven’s Roost

Once upon a midnight dreary

There stood a house so very scary.

Its windows dark and mortar worn,

Within a world built by Sugarlore.

And in the house where nothing stirred,

Lived a creature, just a bird.

With feathers black and blacker eye

He’d watched the moon go creeping by.

For every night at half past nine,

A cookie made, dark, rich, divine,

Of cocoa deep and flavor bold,

A roost of warmth against the cold.

The raven dipped his beak to tip

(a secret held 'twixt beak and lip),

And though his eye stayed black as night,

His heart, just then, grew warm and light.

So if you find your evenings drear,

And shadows crowd a little near,

Just eat one up, and don't you fret,

The Roost has never failed one yet.