Michael Reid

August 6 1980
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The wolf

The wolf cries it's howl at the lonely moon
The branches and leaves dance and swoon
The wind joins in as it rushes by
The stars sparkle their love in the jet black sky
The wolf stands still in pride and grace
As the wind dips down to kiss his face
Nature's protector with hard sharp eyes
It howls again and i hear his cries
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