The Hour of the Wolf

The sun set hours ago, yet it seems like days.
The new day has started but not yet dawned.
Hope fled into the darkness, and a troubled mind
Refuses to release an exhausted body to sleep.

The hour of the wolf is upon us, and darkness
Tears at the mind, regretting what might have been.

Tendrils of uncertainty and fear ensnare a life,
A soul coveting freedom, caught in a trap of self,
No apparent options, exits closed. The sharp tang
Of whiskey cannot dispel or numb the angst.

The hour of the wolf entrenches, and darkness
Simmers in the mind, fearing what might yet be.

A lover stirs in the other room, questing for warmth.
Not finding it, she rises and seeks in the pale dawn.
A gentle touch, a soft kiss, no words, just a presence,
Being warmth and hope, driving chills from the soul.

The hour of the wolf is passing, and darkness
Flees from the mind, asking, what can be today?