The Last Wild Wolf in Carlow
I am the last wild wolf
With razor sharp teeth,
Thick fur: grey brown and black,
Fierce eyes the colour of daffodils and mud,
Claws so sharp they rip through wood.
It was night, a full moon.
I was hungry and scared,
Running, running for my life,
Leaving my cubs behind. I knew they would be killed,
Whimpering, they wanted me back.
The sun was just rising.
I could run no more.
I tried to hide in the bushes that surrounded the den
But the dogs sniffed me out.
Lunging at me I tried to fight them off,
But the dog’s fangs pierced my throat.
The hunters weren't far behind.
I was so weak, so hungry, so tired.
The dogs were called off,
I lay there in shock,
The last words I heard were,
‘My sheep will be the last sheep you will ever kill.’
As the bullet pierced through me
Cheers erupted
And everything was dark.
by Kate