My friend yelled at me “There’s a lion on our street”!
Best we kill it now ere we become its’ meat.
Grabbed my gun and joined him for the kill
Together a mission to fulfill
A lion hunt was dangerous duty, for huntsmen such as we
And our neighbors depended on huntsmen much like me
I stalked the beast with cunning skill
And found him hiding, awaiting the kill
His or mine, it had to be
But his fiery eyes said it had to be me.
I could have run, but a coward I’m not
‘Bout now, my insides were in knots
The lion crouched, ready to leap
I shouldered my gun a trophy to keep
He leaped. I shot. The recoil causing me to waken
With my mother at my side, my temperature being taken
The lion was gone, not a trophy this day
My pox being all I could display
But with my BB gun in hand, I’ll stalk that lion soon
After I escape this sick-room of gloom.
By Mike Chester
Find more at: poets.org
We are sorry that this post was not useful for you!
Let us improve this post!
Tell us how we can improve this post?