The tawny lion
Grins and stretches his lithe legs
I am envious,
I want a fair main like his-
He knows, and teases me so.
Fluid gold flows, day
Grows cold- still, he runs freely.
I yawn, cold air bites.
I am the lioness, the
nocturnal hunter. restless.
It is almost time, but
For now we're content: aloof.
love his opal eyes
And his muscled brutish build
But not the vacancy within him.
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