The Werewolf

A stunning lady drops off his coffee

The sight of these delicately toned legs

Makes my mouth tingle with vapors  

But he doesn’t flinch

My sausage and egg, lose instant focus

He appears dangerously imbalanced

By his quite stern silent stare

Eyes as deep as a moon’s crater

His attire presents an uncouth youth

Yet his face incorporates decades of torture

I peer hastily so not to cause suspicion             His stench emanates towards me

It suggests an abode built by our loyal creator

He leaves, without a footstep sound

My curiosity and poetry follows

I stare all around the coffee shop

Ones entire existents can fall to plopping along

I gather immense strength to investigate

Like a hedgehog gains reason out of hibernation

Drive on his tail; feel transported in TV’s Dallas

Play Amy’s rehab to create a gruesome ambience

His transport carries more moss than gears

As we travel south, we disappear inside darkness                      last sign I seen said: No man’s land

Black exists lighter, not dark                          

Soft placid wind, hits me steadily

I gaze and move over next to him

Previous fear and adrenaline has quenched

We’re someway united

I fall on stone and stay hunched

All bones and joints feel grown

The werewolf speaks no words

Yet I somehow apprehend

Time burns echoes within my soul

I shine fire and transform

My self released and emanates

I follow its glow till it reaches the moon

We search for prey, the hut begins