This tiger sure ain't burning right,
in the forests of the night,
She's blazing with a purple glow,
that none of you will ever know.
She is a sparkle,
in the night time,
a flash in the daylight hours,
no tiger stripes of black and tan.
The lady lost her symmetry,
no sides match,
she's hiding in the undergrowth,
every so often a revelation,
an archetypal creature,
she feeds and thrives and always survives,
safe in the knowledge, that only she knows,
that she'll always feature in the mind of that dark creature.
The speaker of poetry and the writer of words.
(C) Livvi