(06) Together Again Poem by J.B. LeBuert

(06) Together Again

Rating: 2.9

They're all together again after a long hunt.
The wolf pups never gave up, not even the runt.
This is the first time that their mother did give in.
She's accepted their presence, let the hunt begin.

Their coats are of silver, sprinkled with black and gold.
A beautiful sight you'd never guess they're so bold.
Their shiny coats matched their foreboding taught muscles.
Together as one, they were unmatched in tussles.

They could bring down a bear or tiger if needed.
There was no fear and their long fangs should be heeded.
They loved to play fight, but only with each other.
Don't let them fool you, not now or ever, brother.

They're as deadly as sin and don't you forget it.
When night does come around in your home you should sit.
They will kill what they track and would never spare you.
Mark my words now or you will be hunted and through.

As night was falling they started to mill around.
The hunt was now starting and they listened for sound.
There would be something dead within minutes from now.
This is just nature and can't be changed anyhow.

They brought down the hairy beast without much struggle.
They ate their fill, then back to the cave to snuggle.
Life was real good for the four Shewolf relations.
After each kill, there were heartfelt celebrations.

Life could proceed like this for more than a full year.
If only the game held out while they were all here.
But as always, nothing ever remains the same.
The roll of the dice causes the shifting of blame.

The shifting of tides and the phases of the moon,
Would cause the pack to reevaluate, and soon.
The game had depleted before it's time had come.
This made the Shewolf pack more than fearful and glum.

The time was at hand to begin the dismal trek,
Back to the dangerous jungle, risking their neck.
There was no way around it, the end of their reign.
They had to start over, but together again.

Saturday, February 4, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: Death
The sixth poem of the twenty poem Shewolf Saga. Each line of each poem contains twelve syllables and the title is the last words of each of the uniquely formatted poems.
J.B. LeBuert

J.B. LeBuert

Kenmore, New York
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