Page 97 - Musings 2020

Of what is coming at it
When it does see the predator
He is already a dead prey

Down comes an arrow
From the sky above
Coated in venom
The tigress roars her last roar

Comes a time when
Becomes every predator a prey
No animal, no not the fiercest
Survives the greed of man

The cubs stay hidden in the grass
Aware of the danger ahead
Watching their mother roar in pain
Still helplessly roaring as death came by

Feeling the gentle breeze
Moving over her body
Looking around in the darkness
For any hope that lay hidden for her cubs

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