MAGICAL, TOO...

The white wolf came to me one night,
His face intent, extreme,
Content to stare and cause a fright,
Though it was just a dream...
At peace, as if he'd found his prey,
His victim and his feast,
So proud, in fact, he could delay
His nature as the beast...

But in the dream, I stood my ground,
I owned the land and deed,
While he could make a fearful sound,
I knew I could succeed...
He stood alone, I stood alone,
Each one to wear a frown
And while I stood there on my own,
I simply stared him down...

While he was strong, I, too, was strong
And wily, just like him,
That's why we stared the hour long,
That's why we looked so grim...
But at the end, he slinked away,
That coward turned about,
Because my courage saved the day,
By faith, without a doubt...


Denis Martindale copyright May 2016.


A poem based on a magnificent wildlife painting,
by artist Stephen Gayford. Google-search
gayfordgallery and 'Stephen Gayford poetry'.


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Shortcut:
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