The lonesome tiger waded through <br />The forest stream one day. <br />I'd watched him, though he had no clue, <br />With equal stealth to stay. <br />I saw the tiger tread his path, <br />Suspecting everything. <br />This was no peaceful, joyful bath... <br />Who knows what life can bring? <br />The hunter knows what trees can hide... <br />He dare not make mistakes. <br />And so he stares, eyes open wide... <br />When crossing streams and lakes. <br />His ears are scanning left and right... <br />His life depends on these. <br />He needs them every day and night, <br />With sudden noise he'll freeze. <br />His senses span the spectrum's range <br />And profit from their news. <br />Detecting every second's change, <br />Exchanging points of views. <br />Reflexes spark the sudden chase, <br />When prey seeks to escape. <br />When all at once, it's one mad race <br />And then the hunt takes shape. <br />For now, the tiger wades the stream, <br />Defensive at this time... <br />For me, it's like I'm in a dream... <br />To see him in his prime... <br /> <br /> <br />The poem is based on the magnificent painting <br />by Stephen Gayford called 'Forest Stream'.<br /><br />Denis Martindale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/forest-stream/
