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My Teacher
December 2, 2009
I stare straight into the face,
Of that lion.
His eyes, rock and gold,
Match fur,
Soft and deceving,
And dare me,
With a gaze of tired legs.
On his way back.
And yet,
A smirk.
He won't attack,
But block me, he will,
Prepared to kill.
Mocking me,
He growls:
Time's up.
Choose:
Act.
Or turn.
His stare dares me,
With a gaze of groaning bones.
He's traveled today.
And yet,
A smirk.
© Monica L., St. George, UT
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