Syllea loves wolves and their simplistic lives. This is a childish poem she wrote when thinking of what it would be like living among the wolves.
The wind bristling through her fur,
One with the water, wind, earth.
Nobody sees or hears her.
Not having any worth.
If only she could be
A wolf instead of man.
She would live free
Like only a wolf can.
Nature her companion,
A pack of her own,
Living in a canyon,
Chewing on a bone.
Fur like snow,
Instead of clothes.
Not carrying a bow.
Having a life she chose.
