Lone Wolf
A lone wolf rising in ashes of ancient writings planting her crop. Forged in blood, salty sweat, and ink some say related to iron ore rock. Some tried modeling this wolf but her keen sense kept a dreaded clock. A world can only hold one mold. Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock
Copyright © William Burney | Year Posted 2018
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