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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1917987

Again, I never intentionally set out to rhyme. Sometimes it just happens.

EL TIGRE

like a tiger caged within night,
bound by chains and dying light,
gently, gently does he roam
forgotten pages of the tome.

stalking, creeping, fitful sleeping,
dreams awakened of ancient lore,
a flash of fangs and hunger pangs
of a life forsaken, of a love adored.

a tiger caged outside the days,
chained to earth by disparate ways,
softly, softly he treads back home
upon lonely pages of the tome.
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