The wolf and the moon

In the quiet forest, silver-lit night,

A wolf stands alone, bathed in moonlight.

Eyes like amber, burning bright,

Piercing through the veil of twilight.

The moon ascends in a sky so clear,

A luminous globe, drawing near.

Its light cascades, a gentle sheen,

Transforming the world to a serene scene.

The wolf tilts back its head to sing,

A mournful cry, an echoing ring.

The moon listens with silent grace,

Illuminating the wolf’s noble face.

Through ancient woods and whispering pines,

The wolf’s song flows, a melody divine.

A bond unspoken, wild and true,

Between the wolf and the celestial view.

The moon, a guardian, watches over,

As the wolf roams fields of clover.

Together they dance in night’s embrace,

A timeless waltz, a sacred space.

The wolf and the moon, a tale untold,

Of wild spirits, fierce and bold.

In the stillness of the night, they meet,

A symphony of heartbeats, rhythmic and sweet.

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