The Next Morning

The morning sun peeks over
The edges of distant mountains
Chasing away the pale yellow eye
Of the Moon from the sky

Lone Wolf looks for a place to sleep
A warm nest of grass under a tree
Standing tall and solitaire so far away
From the comfort of the tree line

Tired from a typical night
Howling and baying at the moon’s existence
Lone Wolf watches the sun rise
With quiet, cold determination

He lays his head against body
Curling up for warmth
In his battle against the day’s temperature
Trying to erase the memories

Memories which have haunted him
Memories which have chased him
Memories which he wishes to no longer have

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

+ six = 7