A Scarf From South Africa

Someone had left a scarf from South Africa.
It was on the table - a square one.
A lion was looking out from it,
its teeth on show.

My plane hadn't left yet,
so my eyes were drawn to lion eyes,
and how it stared at me -
a visitor.

I had loved my holiday...
Why does a fortnight go like lightning?
I was a stranger all that time...
The lion knew.

It had been made in South Africa
on a loom in someone's bedroom,
but its eyes were the eyes of a real lion.
It wanted me to go.


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4/3/2017

Contest  - A STUNNER 2017

Sponsor - Line Gauthier

2nd place win
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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