The Lone Wolf
The lone wolf
Travels through night
His hunger and emptiness
Pushes his flight
Through forests and valleys
Thickets and streams
A lonesome trek
Too substantiate his means
Alas the smell
Of the weak and defenseless
A glimmer of hope
To sharpen his senses
He stalks as his sonar
Picks up the scent
Of a defenseless creature
Whose life was soon spent
On his approach
He looks all around
In a forest of many
He hears not a sound
His fear intensifies
As he makes his steps
But the hunger he feels
Has never reached these depths
His radar aroused
Fear in his throat
As he sees a plump rabbit
Hung by a rope
He walks up slowly
And smells of the ground
With one more precaution
He makes his last round
He leaps for his prey
In final delight
And falls into a trap
Which cuts like a knife
The cold steel jaws
Firmly grip his limb
With his Last Supper
His life grows dim
contributed by
writingvoice@geocities.com
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