28 May 2012
There was a young pup born under the moon,
But her short life ended much to soon.
Her fur a light shade of stone grey,
Shining beautifully in the rays of day.
Yet striking eyes that send a chill,
Which immobilise her victims so still.
Silently she padded through the forest so deep,
Every animal left in their light sleep.
Looking for her next meal,
Although danger she could feel.
Her eye darted to a chunk of meat.
Unattended, my what a treat!
Eager to tuck into dinner,
She felt a sharp pain in her.
A silver bullet, so sharp and small,
Knocked down the wolf who once stood tall.
The soul removed from body laid there,
Taunting and haunting the hunter who dare.
But now, no pain, watching above,
The wolf of the moon with wings like a dove.
Pup Of The Moon • Opuss № I