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The Lone Wolf

He lopes along the forest floor,
pine needles snapping harmlessly against his rough, silent paws.
He does not seek prey nor foe.
But the presence and company of his own kind.

He roams the moon lit night,
searching for shelter.
He rests occasionally trying to pant away
the endless feeling of loneliness and despair.

His sad, colourless eyes
wish to feast upon a welcoming pack that accept him.
His long, ungroomed coat
need the attention of a patient lady-wolf.

As he continues on his journey
he looks up at the moon.
His only friend.
He stops, sits down and howls into the dark, lonely night.

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AlexisLyons said...
Sept. 18, 2013 at 2:10 pm:
I love wolves too I think your poem is really good
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