I sit alone, by myself waiting to begin,
As my future goal might be my last sin.
I watch and listen as the wind starts to whistle,
yet, at the back of my mind I could launch like a missile.

Then in a split second I witness an action,
This image is can be missed by a mere fraction.
There walks slowly my life, my food, my thrill.
Tonight is the night, I hunt to ****.

I must not rush, for fear it will frighten.
Once I have success, my mind will enlighten.
For I slowly creep, as I watch it stay.
To hunt this Creature makes it my pray.

As I slowly inch forward with stealth more then ever.
For I must be cautious, it might be the meaning of cleaver.
Hunting isn't a game it's my way of life.
Can't lose this chance I must be as sharp as a knife.

Once so close to my target their scent I could taste,
I don't want it to run for i don't want to chase.
In a quick moment it's eyes lock on to mine.
As it's muscles tense it must mean it's time.

With moves so swift, cleaner then water.
The next few minutes could end in a slaughter.
I leap at it, full force and might.
Then instantly it vanishes from sight.

I am left there once again sitting alone.
Dazed and confused, with weeps and moan.
As I scream into the sky “WHAT CAN THIS MEAN”
I awoke..and whispered “It was only a Dream.”