Jungle Diaries of the Serengeti Princess
Last night, she'd had a conversation.
A conversation with someone.
One of those night-time tittle-tattle.
Catching up on the days events.
Laughin' and Jivin',
A little flirting here and there.
It was like happy hour without whisky,
Wine or a pitcher of beer.
Suddenly teeth sharp as knife,
Pierce through her heart.
Impaled upon a stake
And whipped with a jambok.
The stone cold heart skips more than one beat.
Life flashing, senses fogged by clouds of austere proportion.
Battered and bruised, barely hopeful
The White Cliffs of Gibraltar stand before beckoning
To sink deep into the straits.
Tears well in her eyes,
Feeling like forty-one shots as the fell fast,
Down a flame flushed face.
Left to nurse a broken heart
She chastises herself for her foolishness.
For freely loving with all her heart and giving everything,
For sparing it from loving too much and holding back,
For not loving enough or not at all.
The foolishness of emotions, yielding to wisdom through experiences.
The Lion's won the battle, but it's a mere beast longing to be tamed.
And so we weave into the vicious circle,
Living by the law of the jungle,
Only the fittest can survive the games of life.
Now unmasked and wounded,
The Serengeti Princess rises from the stomps,
Holding her head high with pride,
Spear aimed and ready, Shields up and shins guarded,
She will not succumb and she refuses to crumble.
'Random Musing about the not so random muses immortailzed in my anthology.'