Son of the first wolves white
Running trough the dark night,
The silver wolf goes on without anny fright.
In the dark his fur seems black,
The cold blue moon shining on his back.
He is the the son of the first wolves white,
Only the killers he will bite.
He hunts the hunters in their dreams,
As fearsome as he seems.
His golden eyes bright and keen,
Rarely has this silver wolf been seen.
Howling under the nightly sky,
When a dragon is flying by.
He is Nightshade,
Son of the first wolves white.
The silver wolf goes on without anny fright.
In the dark his fur seems black,
The cold blue moon shining on his back.
He is the the son of the first wolves white,
Only the killers he will bite.
He hunts the hunters in their dreams,
As fearsome as he seems.
His golden eyes bright and keen,
Rarely has this silver wolf been seen.
Howling under the nightly sky,
When a dragon is flying by.
He is Nightshade,
Son of the first wolves white.
Reacties op dit gedicht
| Arwyn: | Donderdag, april 25, 2002 16:43 |
| Deze is mooi leggie. Maar dat wist je al... ;) |
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| Elentir: | Woensdag, april 24, 2002 18:37 |
| ...maar check toch even een aantal woorden via een woordenboek of spellingschecker in Word. Dat maakt het gedicht gelijk een stuk aantrekkelijker ('through', 'any'). Veel succes en blijven schrijven. | |
| magiceye: | Woensdag, april 24, 2002 18:20 |
| mooi geschreven! |
|
| Hanneke Eirinn: | Woensdag, april 24, 2002 17:17 |
| mooie :) Legolas | |
Over dit gedicht
| Auteur: Skip Moonshade | 
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| Gecontroleerd door: caroline | ||
| Gepubliceerd op: 24 april 2002 | ||
| Thema's: | ||