Anchored: The Wolf and the Man

My mane is unbrushed and dirty,
there’s no snow for me to roll in.

My matted mane disgusts me;
once I was snow-covered, clean.

You saw me padding in the snow;
paw-prints, fur shaking, a look.

You caught me in your embrace,
free to be, yet anchored to you.

My soul remains free,
yet the cage you gave me is cosy.

I will stay if you take me back to
the snow, brush my mane clean,
and say the words you must say.

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