Please be kind. i am not a professional.


A lonely wolf’s lullaby,
By The Tyger the Tigerwolf

Ever wonder why the wolf howls at the full moon?
Then let me tell you this sad story that took place long ago in a broken June.
We tell this story of love lost and of flowing tears,
Though the family, though the years.
Long ago in woods so deep,
On dark full moons you would hear a howl of weep.
There on a rock over a river so high,
There you would see the wolf in torment and cry.
He was only half a being, love taken without goodbye.
He had to watch that one he loved leave him as she die.
Together they loved one another beyond what the eye could see,
Sometimes the love was so deep, even the night would have to flee.
On a strangely cold June, a creature entered the woods hiding in shadow.
He walked on 2 legs and carried bow and arrow.
His actions brought only death, he smelt of blood.
Not many escaped his aim; many great animals fell where they stood.
Together, the lovers snuggled together on a rock so high,
He loved to watch her admire the full moon in the night sky.
The future seems bright, loving each other in the bright moon light.
Never did they notice the walking beast creep up on this hunter’s night.
It was late when they started for their home, to their den.
The beast saw, he only hunted for pleasure of the skin.
Together they rose up from the perch on the stone,
They then heard a unknown tone.
They looked and saw from the bushes, eyes yellow with blood thirsty delight.
And with power so strong the arrow hit, his love flew off the rock in the cool June night.
From the rock she fell, to the stones beside the river’s flow.
The beast hurried to the victim down below.
The wolf was alone only looking down, only for a moment he tarried.
He raced down to her, to find nothing, not her or the family that she carried.
He smelled her scent, her blood is all of her that remained.
The beast took from him his soul, his love, his family. A broken being stained.
Every full moon he went to the rock and stood on the edge, looking at the moon.
His thoughts filled with the love taken from him, on that cold broken June.
His howl was so filled with pain, so were the tears that he wept.
From then own after his death, this tradition the wolves promised to have kept.
Leave the wolves to howl at the moon.
And beware the wolves in the month of June.
But do not let this poem make you cry from sorrow and of pain.
This is not the end of the story of love slain.
The night the wolf died, many animals claim to see in the night light,
2 stars started to burn on this moonless summer night.
With 5 tiny sparkles playing around them with gleeful delight.