The Lion’s Game*

The King rests on his throne,

Reflecting on his busy day.

Patrolling done, he dozes –

Pretending to sleep,

But a tail flick

Betrays his light snooze

As just a rest.

He’s patrolled his lands,

Sniffing the hyacinths,

Pansies and pulsatilla.

Repelling invading squirrels

Crows and magpies.

He’s chased bees, but missed

Catching them.

He’s rested on the old

Table tennis table,

Which is meant to be going

To the tennis club

But no-one has yet picked it up.

He’s had three breakfasts,

Two lunches,

And soon it’s suppertime.

But now he rests –

From time to time

An ear flick betrays him

When he pretends to sleep

For the camera.

Touch him at your peril:

So soft, so orange, 

And yet that mane tells you

That he’s a lion

The king of beasts.

He has an army of human slaves

To attend his every need:

Sometimes he oversees his gardener

Helping her plant tulips.

Other days he lies in the road:

Daring cars to approach him.

He has the body of a weak and feeble cat,

But he has the heart and stomach of a king:

A king of England too.

And so, like Arthur, he sleeps

Until his people need him

To ride his charger into battle.

Happy Wednesday everyone!

*2000.  By Nelson DeMille.  The second Detective John Corey novel.  Corey is now working for the fictional FBI Anti-Terrorist task force in New York City.

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