Culled old moon

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Wolf moon stalking mocking
Reflecting reflexes
young strong bold
on the rise
Walking in his shadow
I tremble
Old moon days numbered
gray face dimming
awaits night claws
cold slashing light

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9 Comments
LeBrozLeBrozover 16 years ago
~~

This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 37,000 poems.

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LeBrozLeBrozover 16 years ago
~~

A certain haunting melancholy seems to pervade here.

Syndra LynnSyndra Lynnover 19 years ago
Why

does this aching wisdom make me so hot? This turns me on. really

BlueskyBeautyBlueskyBeautyover 19 years ago
you saying you're old?

you're pretty vibrant for an old fart!! ~winks~

champagne1982champagne1982over 19 years ago
I can see

the old man as he struggles to keep control. In the wild, the wisdom in the grey of your whiskers means much less than the ache of arthritis in your bones. Poor old wolf.

The alpha is dead! Long live the alpha!

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