A Tiger
The tiger slammed
it's heavy head
on the mangled branch
echoing of something stronger,
eyes rolling
yowls turning the air to
dusk.
Your rage is cold
and strong
and just
Thick claws,
dark with blood and dirt slam
the earth once again
Your pride is strong,
as your beating furied heart.
You rip agin,
thier iron bars callous, or yours.
Your amber eyes glow,
frothy in the dying sunrise,
some how a start
already dead.
You pace and
pace, like me-
your thoughts turning
ivy jungles and
ivory beasts.
But you
are long gone from there.
It is already
mirage.
poem by Alice Miller
Added by Poetry Lover
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