The story of Wilson

Wilson when young loved the lights,
and all that,which was glistening and bright
He loved the sun, he loved the moon
he loved the dawn break into noon.
He loved the rainbow rising steep,
He loved the dew drops on the leaf.

Wilson when young loved morning walks
so each morning without fail..
he woul trail..
the fleeing leaves, the impish wind
and on his way would joyfully sing.

But one such morning when Wilson went out
he felt his heart thumping loud..
he felt ill,he felt vexed..
as though some frightful loss he had met..
And then he saw his soul fly out
he saw it vicious, he saw it black
his heart went numb his body slack.

The soul conjoined his shadow,
its flaming eyes were hollow
devoid of joy, devoid of warmth,
devoid of any feeling strong.
The frightful sight made wilson shriek,
he ran as fast as his knees; weak,
could take him.
He ran back home and locked the gate,
hid himself,wept disconsolate,
his heart felt weak,his body cold
he sat alone without a soul.

The morning stil brightens with the birds twitter,
and the stream near by still glitters,
in the sunlight bright.
But wilson is never seen out
Playing in the wind or looking at the rain clouds.
He's scared his soul might haunt him again
He stays in covers all day,
he escapes the light
And haunts the darkness of the night