Dear Dark Lycan - A Poem

Dear Dark Lycan...

The forest, a vast expanse,
Lost in the Guynd, *
Where the leaves dance,
To the whistling wind,

Her bare feet on wet earth,
Echo with mirth,
The wind tussles her hair,
A clandestine love affair.

The moon on silent water,
On a lake so wide,
A thousand eyes watch her,
From where the shadows hide.

Taken aback by surprise,
She gazes into the dark grey,
The light from her undying eyes,
Seem to say,

" Dear Dark Lycan,
Not a moment too soon,
Throw back your mane,
And howl at the moon. "

He the predator, she the prey,
Sharp teeth white, on a face grey,
On his skin, etched is the rune,
' We are the tribes of the moon. '

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* - Guynd (Pronounced: g-ind, Rhymes with 'wind')
Meaning: The Gaelic word for a high, marshy place.