Little Friends Poem by Cin Sweet

Oh the little lions
come time for play or chow,
or just checking in
When you call
them first galloping, later walking
then, eventually as all
one day will not hear or heed,
Sigh, then they will not come at all
You never think it possible
in the golden days
them adorning your mundane
with play and stubborn learning
in mud and rain
kites and wind and burning toasting suns
them wiggling and waggling
jesters and chums beneath your busy
like roaring sparkling diamonds them
oh the little lions.