Grey Wolf in the Old Forest

They still speak of it,

Creatures big and small.

Whispers, whispers of a lone silhouette,

Darting between the trees.

Patient, grey-mantled,

Wary, watching.

A venerable witness

To seasons uncounted.

Her pups were taken,

Forever lost.

Now she roams alone,

Treading the everlasting verdance,

The passage of time doing nothing to dim,

The great chasm within.

A solitary watcher,

In light and dark,

With aqueous eyes, deep and piercing,

Seeking the astral realm, through the azure haze.

Walking alone, indifferent

To the scampering rabbits, the weaning of foals,

The march of Man,

The demise of trees.



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