T H E W O L F ' S B A N E

Thou devil's affable wolves as dull as the night,
Cling more until the ray of light's beam reunite,
Greater beast shall cense thee into the nutshell,
At thy safety; thou crusty batch of nature's hell,

Pray then awhile, the nights are loosing intensity,
How save the dawn mayest meet thy head furmity?
It antecedently came with gait of heft and rugged,
The trash of each evil falls at the punch of one blow,

While praying remember the evil thou plotted done,
For the recompense is blood for blood undertone,
At the fielding calls, where legends rolled over legacy,
And legacy takes rightful verge upon defied embassy,

Let the routes of evil be rubbed clean as writing slate,
By the hushing winter's cold breeze for another gait,
And come marching, thee cadence of sweet music,
The devoutful has a place they've made truly theirs,

 But beneath the red full moon, stalking village by night,
Thou are a fanged, clawed menace – part of an ungodly,
Whiskers and snouts, hungry without iota of fondness,
Every night's the werewolf and wolves in lobed Shadows.

© Charles David Ogbeche
22/02/2020