The Hunt

Deep inside the blood was spilled
All the beasts around get enthrilled
Their hunger for blood is strong
Although insanely wrong

An innocent fawn gets shot
A lonesome hunter makes the kill
For him it is just a thrill
But for the beasts around it is instinct
When the hunter sees them his hearts sinks

They swiftly approach the man
And the man makes his stand
But the man does not move
He simply smiles
And all the while
The squirrels come near
To explore what they fear
Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

Poem

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Griffiths Avatar
October 28, 2009 at 10:29 AM
Aww. Well written. Pam.
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