PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

In a feeble growl, the wolf collapses in the slush made fom the rain assualting the snow.

Pain digs its talons deeper, frozen tears cluster around his eyes.  He is beaten.

Raggy fur, scar matted chest and head.  Tail is missing some length, the bandage feet

planting bloody prints in the ground.

Blooming crimson roses in the trail of a broken wolf.

He lays shivering and whimpering.  Releasing all the dreams of warmth only found in love.

Breathing, sickness as he fights the fever of infections.

Shivering, the cold is not the reason but the wind pets with an icy hand.

The wolf growls turn to soft whimpers.

The ears laid back against the skull as a few last tears seal the eyes shut.

Frozen relics of the love that was.

The last of life being stolen away in an unmarked grave.

Then a warm snout is rubbing the wolf's beaten shoulder.

"Come home lost child," speaks Mother Luna.