Her degenerative state prompted me to do something.
I slowly put my hands around her, holding her tight.
Waited for the spark, from which the inspiration would ignite.
Barely any life in her, her limbs all but gone,
seeing her deteriorate anymore I felt was so wrong.

Kneeling above, coming face to face,
sure that I could rescue her, restore her to her former grace.
Stroking her rugged waxy skin
Feeling each line,
staring at her nakedness
thinking how it brought her no pain.
Breathing her aroma in,
pondering her past,
wondering whether nature was cruel in allowing
her existence to this soon pass.

Holding a pen I start to draw
moving it around her body, considering each law,
pondering each incision the depth I would need to go,
knowing any slip could cause harm and sorrow.

Hours below the stars and shine,
Her operations each going fine,
Now I see her presence
surfacing, her beauty sublime.
So smooth her complexion
No Not as nature had meant it to be
Her Precious marks fabulous,
her features lovingly Chipped,
carved and refined.

Her past has now disbanded
Her new life begun
Why it was that she chose to be a panther.
Only she knows!
(c) Robert Kingston 8.10.15