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Tiger In the Woodshed
There's a tiger in the woodshed.
Safe and dark it lies,
Watching the night with
Brown and yellow liquid eyes.
The sleeper nestles in his bed,
The tiger kept outside.
No sudden urge will raise its head;
No dark horse will he ride!
The night goes on, and on again
As some nights tend to do,
Moon presiding on the scene,
Lone owl calling, "Who?"
But restless in his dreaming
And dreaming of his sin,
At last the dreamer goes
And takes the tiger in.
Copyright ©
Elizabeth Mccann
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