The young wolf runs down
Intrigued by the masked woman
Followed by flower vines
She urges him on
Bringing him to the city
She has to show him
Looking at his land
He sees no proud, brave warriors
But a numbed crowd
The Queen leads him home
But the Prince thinks of the crowd
And runs down once more
This is actually the second poem in a series, so I would recommend reading the other poem, "the king of thorns" and the collection description if you feel confused
