The writer sits alone and thinks
Of what he plans to write
He thinks of death
He thinks of joy
He thinks of pain and life

He dozes and he dreams
A nightmare one might say
The ghost of his wife long dead
He can not keep at bay
A bird that mocks her death so cold
Changes to a bug of gold
It buries him in his dream
But still he clings to life
His name is Edgar Allan Poe
Lenore, she was his wife.