Fatal Attraction
Those shining moonlit eyes
Stare boldly from behind the tree
I hear his breaths like sighs
Or rolling waves from the far sea
The striped face stares at me.
The native hunters, those who dance
Paint their skin black and green
The one who holds me in this trance
His stripes have been called those of fiends
By no human could I be seen
The villagers said to my face
To stay away from there
“The den, the lair, it is no place
For you: MEN who return are rare”
They don’t know the lure of night air
And now I stand here with my poem
In the silence I’m tighter wound
Than when the bugs rustle in loam
For I know he’d never make a sound
By the tiger I’ve been found.
**Alas! I wrote this for the quintain contest but I am too late!**
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