A lone wolf sits atop a spire;
He howls at the moon.
But there is no one near to him
To hear his mournful tune.
He weeps for the loss of something
Near and dear to him.
His reflection in the water
Slowly turns to crimson.
He walks away with heavy heart
And sadly looks around.
His eyes grow wide; his knees grow weak,
And he falls to the ground.
These mem'ries overwhelming him
Of miseries forgotten;
He's tried to hide them deep inside;
Remembrances rotten.
But they would not stay locked away;
Rising to consciousness.
He yearned for the ability
To remember long-lost bliss.
But as the moon began to set
And fiery sunbeams shone
These miseries began to wane;
He solemnly trudged home.
But once the moon had sunk beyond
The horizon distant
He drifted to oblivion;
No longer this curse resisting.