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The Lonar......The wolf runs, runs from his life, Hes alone, and always has been, His sorrows are his anguish, he never knew another, His mournful howls, never answered by others, His black muzzle breathe out hard air, It seems tears are falling from his hair, Fur bristles against the cold, Hes young still, not even old He creeps upon the snow and frozen rocks, Mind reeling by the ticking of natures clock, Will he ever find another wolf? Or will his sorrow shake his mind forever? Or could their really be another? Shalt he find what he seeks? Or only eat leftover meat that reThe Lonar......
by ~theHyperMatrix
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