Poetry

River’s Thought (#218)

In this was the cold of night,
At the river’s waterfalls that kiss moon’s light,

Only the shadow of this wolf could be seen,
Drinking the running water from a rock on which I lean,

Above the rustling river was the midnight fog,
I gazed into its waters from a nestled log,

‘Twas a mirror of my trials and past,
Pains and love washed into my mind sharply and fast,

A silent sorrowful tear dropped from my eye,
I am the lone white wolf, and it is no lie,

My future shalt not be my past no matter where or how,
Before the future, I shall not cow.

Any Thoughts?

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