The tiger sneaked a private glance
Between the close-knit leaves,
Who knows if there would be, perchance,
Some walking meal that breathes?
There was no scent upon the air,
No dainty morsel near,
The hunger felt he had to bear,
Till made to disappear...
With softly-trodden tootsies stepped,
He paced himself once more,
To face the lonely vigil kept
When hunting was a chore...
Without a drink to calm his nerves,
On tenterhooks he walked,
His tail now twisting with its swerves
As onward still he stalked...
His patience almost at an end,
He heard a creature run
And all his hopes were on the mend,
The hiding part was done...
On breaking cover, he gave chase,
Too soon a meal to gain,
No wonder frowns grew on his face,
Next time, he'd use his brain...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2014.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting by
Stephen Gayford, nb Google search gayfordgallery.
Find more wildlife poems using Google search
for the search phrase Stephen Gayford poetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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