Timber, Timber
I do call
Falling trees no where near
but a wolf I do hear
running fast darting quick
knocks me down with one kick
Timber, Timber
Why'd you leave
Timber, Timber
I still call
Falling trees are not near
no wolf. I cant hear
I hit the ground
and pour out the tears.
This poem is in memory of my one true friend, my loyal pet Timber. He was a timber wolf. He disapeared when i was five.
Copyright 2003 The_Scavenger
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