Wolves

                                 by Chama

                Silent night, I am walking alone
                with a desolate forest around me.
                Twinkling stars, and the frostbite of snow,
                I can tell, you have already found me

                The rustle of soft, quiet paws
                approaching without hesitating.
                The moment finally has come
                when you will no more keep me waiting

                You're here my wolves, don't fear my wolves.
                The night's velvet blanket protects us.
                I can feel it now, there is somehow
                a mystical bond that connects us.

                Silent night in these desolate woods
                with the wind blowing cold as before.
                Winter's here and it's come to stay
                but I'm not alone anymore.

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                From that moment, this wonderous night
                where the silvery moonlight is flowing,
                finally, I am one with the pack
                and the feeling inside me is growing.

                Side by side
                together through night we're running
                beyond any time
                and beyond mundane worlds wer're shunning.

                Under the moon
                we're nothing but sisters and brothers
                apart from the world.
                Woes and worries belong to all others.

                As the hours pass transiently by,
                this enchanted moment of magic
                I am you, you are me and we're wolves
                but the ending alas is more tragic.

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                Silent dawn, near the breaking of day,
                the horizon illuminates brightly.
                Night has fled from this wintery scene.
                In despair, I clench my fists tightly.

                The rustle of soft, quiet paws
                departing, although it will grieve me.
                The moment finally has come
                when you will eventually leave me.

                Goodbye, my wolves, don't cry, my wolves
                though night is at final recession.
                The memory will always be
                my single most precious possession

                Silent day, with a pale rising sun
                and the sky is the colour of bone.
                All I see of my wolves is the tracks,
                and I find, once again, I'm alone.