The Wild Thing
in the dusk in the dark,
an animal creeps.
from not very far.
i see his eyes,
look to the skys.
creeping at night,
out of sight.
catch his pray,
no reason to stay,
blood trail from where he lay.
taking the life from the animal he slaughter,
last of it left for his lion cub daughter.
poem by Ailish Canning
Added by Poetry Lover
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