WOLF POEM
A wolf ,she roams the mountain tops,
her voice is clear to each tree top.
A lonly call by ear of man,
ment for wolf to understand.
A wonderous night; the stars so bright,
another call rings through the night.
Her eyes they look for a shape a far,
a silver wolf out shines the star;
"with love",
she wispers from a far.
STEVEM

PASSION
The heat of passion drives forth from the mind,
The eyes of passion so hard to find.
The smell of passion cannot be defined.
The art of passion truly sublime.
The healing of passion shall never be mine!
Till at last we finally lay both entwined,
or shall it be ever thoughts in mind. stevem