I mussed my mane on that last jaunt,
lunging under elephants
while huffing, running, to evade
the stampede of a thousand bulls.
That ground, it shook me to the claw,
and, for a moment, I was down
and watched them leap right over me.
Amazingly, I'm merely scratched.
For now, I'll climb back to the pride,
review my "kingdom" safely there.
Lesser creatures would have cried.
In time, the wind will comb my hair.
Mane © Copyright 2021, Robert J. Tiess.
View this poem at AllPoetry.com
Bad hair day for a lion :-) Challenge prompt link:
Submitted: March 3, 2019