Little Wolf
He crossed my path, while walking through the woods.
He was a little grey wolf.
Though merely a cub, he was fearless.
He came to me, hackles raised, teeth bared.
I held my hand to him, for I felt he must have been afraid.
He eyed me closely, letting his guard falter for only a moment.
I stared into his eyes, awaiting his approval or disapproval.
He slowly, so slowly, inched towards me.
I inched closer and closer to him, until he could smell my hand.
His nose was cold and wet.
I smiled as his small pink tongue darted out and he licked my finger.
I moved closer still, scratching behind his ears.
Then, he shouted.
"Come on Dana," he said, "supper is ready."
And my little wolf friend ran away.
I go inside, after watching him leave.
After dinner, he is waiting for me.
Sitting at the edge of the woods.
I go to him.
And every night, after supper, he is there.
Waiting--
Still.
Copyright ©
Dana S | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment