Tuesday, June 7, 2011

I Am The Hunter

Walk through the trees, little deer
Daintily step over the underbrush
And nose through the leaves and grass

Your ears are quite capable to discern the sound of predators
Occasionally you perk up and swivel your head around
Looking for something that might have seen you

Gingerly you meander about in and out of danger.
But you know you do, and you try to be careful
But you never quite had your wits about you.

If you hadn't wandered into my garden that day,
Maybe if you hadn't trashed my flowers.
I wouldn't be here, stalking.

And waiting.

Oh, little deer. I need not trap you.
You end up in open clearings and places
And box yourself in.

Maybe it was I who lied to you.
You weren't aware of who I am
Or what I'm capable of...

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