Poem by Alexa Greenwood
My life is riderless,
Of prophesy it is bare.
Green meadows turn to bog,
The gallop succumbs to the mire.
Step back - Quick!
I hear her thoughts,
Just and honourable,
A wolf howls at the moon,
Who stole the wilderness?
The mocking gods look down,
And the wind bites, like kindness.
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