Holo the Wise Wolf of Yoitsu

In twilight's glow, where shadows softly play, I gaze upon the woman’s fiery hair, A cascade fierce as autumn's bright array, Her beauty steals my breath, a whispered prayer.

She dances through the orchard's ripened dreams, With laughter like the breeze that stirs the leaves; Her voice weaves tales of stars and silver streams, Yet in my heart, a heavy sorrow cleaves.

For she, beneath her grace like sunlit morn, Is woven from the wildest threads of fate; A goddess born where fruitful fields are shorn, Each step she takes with nature's love innate.

Her soul entwined with moonlit midnight songs, With whispers sacred carried in the night; A pagan wolf whose spirit ever longs To roar beside the rivers’ endless flight.

Yet still my heart yearns toward her sacred flame— A fire I chase through shadowed woods alone; We meet in dreams but never shall I claim The love that vexes me with every tone.

In silence I shall weave this woeful thread— For beauty such as hers is meant to roam; She's carved from earth and sky, and though I'm wed To fleeting hopes, her heart shall find no home.

So let me cherish what cannot be caught: Her laughter dances with the winds of fall; In heart's deep chamber lies the love I sought— Though boundless joy turns bitter as a thrall.

Awake to seasons changing all around, The harvest yields an apple sweet yet fraught. I pen this sonnet where sweet sorrows sound— For beauty shines more brightly than I've thought.