The Tiger

The Tiger

His amber eyes survey the view,
of concrete paths and nothing new.
The same old bars and worn out tree,
The tiger prowls, but cannot see
The jungle where his mother lived,
Instead, he is within a wood
Inside a zoo, not quite the same.
But who, we wonder, is to blame?

Will he be safer in the zoo?
Has HE a different point of view?
If we could understand his voice
Perhaps he wished he’d had a choice!
We should not cage this handsome cat,
But save his natural habitat.
Then he could roam in tall high grasses,
Where no-one sees him as he passes.

He roars, and we just think he’s hungry,
But no, he really wants his freedom.
He knows he is not really living,
Just pacing up and down his kingdom.
He wants to run for miles, but no,
He sees there’s nowhere he can go.
Except to pace the same old path,
And see the children run and laugh.

He’d like to show them he is really WILD
And if he could, he’d EAT a child!
Perhaps his jailers then would see,
That tigers just aren’t meant to be
In cages, for posterity,
But in the jungle, wild and free.