The Cold
The night black as coal
A golden glow to the west
The only hope in a hot still night
Still i am drawn from my door
~
Into dew laden grasses bare feet tread
Northern breezes cool on the flesh
Lift tendrils of flame swathing my face
Obscuring my vision of the east
~
In opposition to thy clock
Bare feet turn me thrice
Winds pick up circling mineself
While the trees are still
~
Still yet spinning wildly
Smothered in the dark, dank cold Blackness
Bowed before Gods unseen
To my knees then lower still
~
Ghostly figures circle as a predator
Teasing and tintalating, charmingly wanton
Unseen hands dart in and out
Coming close but out of reach
~
Bowed to the ground lips moistened by dew
Icy cold hands upon my back
Sliding and forming itself upon my form
Reaching for my heart
~
Warm roughness upon my cheek
Not unlike that of a tongue
Soft warm fur curls at my side
Soft whimpers and nuzzles break the spell
~
Pulled and tugged from the grass
To bring me to my door
In i go without is the wolf
To guard my soul