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The Broken Hearted Lion
By manunkind
The tawny lion
Grins and stretches his lithe legs
I am envious,
I want a fair main like his-
He knows, and teases me so.
Fluid gold flows, day
Grows cold- still, he runs freely.
I yawn, cold air bites.
I am the lioness, the
nocturnal hunter. restless.
It is almost time, but
For now we're content: aloof.
love his opal eyes
And his muscled brutish build
But not the vacancy within him.
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© 2006 voix de femme
Published on Saturday, May 6, 2006.
Filed under:
"Poetry"
Comments on "The Broken Hearted Lion"
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A former member wrote:
such a tender, visercal allegory i could infer; love the muscle.structure and the sinew of this.... indeed...~ness
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On Saturday, May 6, 2006, Spiritus_Frumenti
(340)
wrote:
this felt so natural in its savage tenderness...-l-
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