On The Other Side
That tiger scares me, I hear his constant breath, imagine
a strength of will when his smooth pad-fall passes.
I feel his presence, know he will return, to taunt, tease
me and the tiger who walks with me.
I love the one at my side, worry as he scents competition.
He understands his nemesis, believes he knows mine.
There are times I fret for our future as that tiger
shines colour, his aura unmistakable, his pride
discernable in the arch of his neck, the spark in his eye.
He believes in himself. He would like me for his own.
I keep my tiger on a lead, whisper for him to stay close.
He cleanses me with a rough tongue, purrs if I stroke
the black tufty tip of his ear, consoles and comforts me,
curls about my feet in the darkness.
My tiger tells me all will be well yet walks a deliberate pace.
Waiting.
He cleanses me with a rough tongue, purrs if I stroke
the black tufty tip of his ear, consoles and comforts me,
curls about my feet in the darkness.
My tiger tells me all will be well yet walks a deliberate pace.
Waiting.
As day follows night into the light, light dawn,
curtains are drawn through other peoples dreams,
I feel that tiger, restless, his want predatory,
unmistakable in his intention and I wonder if he too
would curl about my feet.
curtains are drawn through other peoples dreams,
I feel that tiger, restless, his want predatory,
unmistakable in his intention and I wonder if he too
would curl about my feet.
winston plowes
Tue 16th Mar 2010 10:02
Hi Stella, liked this. Cats both big and small are a great inspiration for poetry arnt they. Win