Facing it at morn,
It's magnetism lures.
From afar it is in seen,
And the storm is conjures.
The time made crevices,
Howling wind it moulds.
The rock face of memories,
Imminent future to be told.
Golden jaws of beauty,
Aside a large puddle of rain.
Waves whap the cliffs of life,
Her face in stone, it did contain.
Wolf
Dedicated to Matilda
