The Shore. Poem by Tom Allport
The Shore.
Listen! We from the forest
Born out of thunder
Follow our noses
Rich is the plunder
We are wulvs
We bite to the core
If you run from us
We bite more
Invisible sound screams
All must follow
To the centre of the circle
Beg, steal or borrow
For the pack of us
Stick together
Through thunder and lightening
And all kinds of weather
It's our cowning glory
A mystical see
Light of the shore
Witan our destiny.
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7/23/2025 2:39:39 PM # 1.0.0
