Porcupine Ridge simmer down boy

the gold-plated wolf says he is having fun.
maul thinks of fun
and how one is obligated to outgrow it
how life grinds and pushes against you
takes all joy from you,
and finally leaves you alone with exhaustion.

exhaustion is a cold, sharp fanged thing,
neither quick nor kind
but merciless and sapping.

enough about the troubles of the world; maul looks up
and smiles at those young eyes
benevolent, kind eyes
that hold the sun ostensibly in them.

"just joining in." he says with a shrug
but the smile remains and his tail
has never stopped wagging.