Are those tears, I see?
In the corner, of the tigeress's eyes,
As she stares at me,
From her grassy knoll,
Within her spacious compound.

Her beauty, is beyond any doubt,
Yet, her heart is broken,
Everyday, I come to visit her,
To pay My respects,
For Her Freedom's lost.

I can see, the pain and suffering, in her eyes,
She remembers,
Her glorious days, of the hunt,
Stealthily, blending in the high grass.

Camouflaged between,
The golden blades and shadows,
Able to smell, the buffalo,
From miles away.

Now she awaits, my visits everyday,
Becoming, more accustom to me,
She knows and feels, what I feel,
I too wish my freedom,
From this body, that imprisons me,
Like a tomb.

A painless utopia, is my desire,
I'm too much of a coward, I will wait,
It won't be long, before the Reaper,
Comes hunting, to stare,
At the one time freedom,
I had in my eyes.

By: William Bonilla......3/06/03