Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2017
I keep thinking about the lion
who could pull down a buffalo alone
But when they shot him with a tranquilizer dart
And weighed him in a canvas sling
He weighed only 400 pounds.
Too small to ever win a pride
He ended as a pile of bleaching bone
He died as he hunted – alone.
David Hill
Written by
David Hill  Lansing Michigan
(Lansing Michigan)   
866
     Jim Hill and Ryan Holden
Please log in to view and add comments on poems