In the vast Savannah, brown and whistling
It resuscitated self and stretched the long folded arms
In the middle of a land full of treachery
And thought it might not be buried again
Without accomplishing the virtue
Full of erect manifold it moves fecund and bouncy
With little eccentrics or indifference
And races towards the human pretence
With agility
With agility
The lonely hunter has no future
No catch to hunt all gone with the harsh wind
But…one catch sets self in
The hunter snares it
Feeling important and chest-thumping
He fends the limping catch well, watches its move
And offered a helping hand
The emotional thirst ran deep in him
But he kept his knife in the scabbard
Waiting for the right time
The catch, now able to jump and move about
Just sleeps as the hunter sweats over
It moves hereabout and does not care about
As the hunter continues
Then one day, just one day
Things went outside the fence
And the hunter settled the wind
Raised above the normalcy
With little ineptitude
The catch ran away
And the hunter has gone bitter
Wished he had eaten her earlier
Than wait
« return.