It was not the lion, majestic,
harbouring its life force in the easy
rise and fall of its flanks,
so much as the fear of it
coming with me into the den,
making me quake and tremble,
a fear no slowed breath,
no mental strength could suppress,
knowing as I did the lion would wake
and what would happen next.
David Adès (South Australia / USA)
An independent poetry journal. Watch your step.
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