The full moon on this riparian hamlet
Creating ripples in the placid pool,
Like an ethereal cadence in languor.
The desolate howling coming from the nefarious woods,
No it’s not what you think…
It’s not the coyotes.
Can you feel the heartache in that piercing cry?
Can you hear the echoes and whispers?
Or do you cover your ears?
It’s the wailings of the renegade werewolf.
You may see him in the moonlight, where the bats fly.
He is lovelorn, hurt.
And he will say to you,
“I know you little girl.
We have lived for aeons together in a redolent past,
Where one breath was a lifetime, and one night was eternity.
Your gossamer hair hung down on your bare breast;
Your radiant skin smooth as ivory.
With the mist of early mornings in your dreamy eyes,
You were Lilith, the alluring elf queen in vales of dreams.
And in your dream little princess, when you sail on your moonboat
With the Northern light to guide you to the distant realms of the night,
Do you ever brood alone? Do you ever shed a tear?”
The werewolf hides his scars of love as he waits for the denouement.
After all, in your scent
There are thousands of springs.
And even if it takes an eternity and a day,
Not the distance, nor the years
Can separate him from you.
Cause the werewolf was yours through the centuries and legends
And you will be his through the centuries to come.