January 27, 2011
Killer instincts, Snow white fur,
Padding paws, of this I’m sure,
Crouching in dusky light,
Anticipating her fight for life.

Stepping slowly, she tracks her prey,
Waiting for that fateful day,
Cool breezes ruffle her fur,
Slowly though it does occur.

Pain throughout her entire being,
As is slowly turns to spring,
Muscles stretch, bones bend,
Finally, herself once again.

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JoanMarie15 said...
Feb. 28, 2014 at 7:42 pm
I loved this poem, very creative and well organized. Short, but i loved it :)
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