The lonely wolf howled to the sky,
Mourning for his love.
The stars were twinkling in his eye
Serenely like a dove.


The man-wolf sat at midnight,
Listening to the loon.
His form bathed in the moonlight
Of an orb-like moon.


His love a-followed in his wake,
Gazing at him forlorn.
His head bent down into the lake,
His clothes beside him torn.


He heard the sound of her breath,
And turned around in fright.
Her face said she was scared of death.
His teeth barred for a fight.


He approached sniffing the air,
And his tenseness fell.
For he saw in her eyes a care,
And recognized her smell.


But once again up perked his ears,
Eyes filling with glee.
Gliding graceful with no fears
He left, for he was hungry.


A stupid man called him a beast,
And was on the hunt.
The man-wolf only wanted peace
That he could not grant.


On to legs, occasionally four,
He padded through the mud,
And lept and bit his food with gore,
Loving the taste of blood.


The sun peaking up from the east,
Werewolf lay in the mud,
The light around growing like yeast,
His face covered in blood.


He stirred, and woke, and felt his face,
His eyes struck with fear.
He saw the corpse staring to space,
And down trickled a tear.