Lion, Thing of Beauty
As he treads with prowling skulk
His fur in waves throws shining gleam,
One cannot take their eyes away
And should not take their eyes away,
For if they moved their eyes away.
He’d be gone, a forgotten dream.
With giant paws that silently tread,
Carrying him in doughty stead
He struts and strides with vigour and might
As his body caresses the gentle night.
His face so strong and so immense,
With patient, loving eyes that sense
That there is life. He’s spied his feast.
And now we’ll see a different beast.
He motionless stands, with utter skill,
His only thought to catch and kill.
He does not dare to take a breath
As he watches his prey move closer to death.
The smell of warm and living blood
Glides closer to him through the mud.
He knows that he must take a chance.
And now he’s gone with fierce advance.
With killing claws he tears and rips,
And feasts upon the flesh he grips.
One pounce is all it takes from this
spectacular and irreverent beast.
One pounce is all it takes for him
To prove beyond doubt that he is King.