The Truth About Tigers

In the froward shadows of twilight’s sigh,
A lone figure stands, gaze cast skyward,
Rejecting the day’s soft, apologetic light.
Speaking to the stars, a silent rebellion,
He walks the edge of night’s embrace,
A solemn soul against the tide,
Seeking solace in the moon’s wane.

Written in response to Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #356: This weekend your challenge is to write a poem or a piece of prose in exactly 46 words using the word “Froward.”