The wolf pulls
his aching paws
It's all he can do.
Keep on moving,
though his world is so bruised.
The sky a deep purple blue.
Even the birds have gone to roost.
He knows time is close,
of this, he is sure.
All he hears in his head
the constant grind
of mankind’s wars.
Grits his teeth,
grazing lips
with the chapped debris
of too many days and nights
in this world
of scares and scrapes,
with just scraps to claim
as his victory from his fights.
He knows the end is soon.
He can feel something
in his gnawed bones.
The awful tone,
grinding down his gums.
It hums.
He shuffles, tail ragged, manky.
How he could use a manicure
his claws jagged, leaving a
thin line to show where
he has pawed the floor.
He knows it will be over soon.
He can feel the downpour,
the earth's tides
flowing in for one last roar.
He sees through glassy view,
the moon, brightly shining
amidst the gloom,
and he howls to her.
Their special tune.
She sings it back.
A lovers refrain,
telling him to not fear the rain.
She says,
"It may seem our time is almost run,
but our song is not yet sung,
we still have a few more cycles
around this blazing sun.
I have seen the past and it's mysteries,
but I've also glanced into future stories.
I have seen snatches of what's to come,
and we still have a chorus
and a circle to form."
Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff
You can find my New books
"Tales from the 44A" and "Stations
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/
and here
continue to do this.
Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle
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