Howling wolves echo loudly
across the empty marsh;
Through my soul.

Sharpe steel blade reflects
bright full moon;
All its light.

memory of young desire
Innocent child's dance
Pure no more.

3 Comments

    1. Thank you. Sometimes I just ‘see it’ and then it’s finding the right word or phrase to replicate what I see. Sometimes rather than sentences, single words put together, which may not make sense in any other context, seem to just work to create the picture I want.

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