Her name is Jadyn
Across the plains of cracked, dry land,
only a few sources of water
are in sight, yet, this is home,
to strength, power, and grace.
She protects her young
with her life, the way
any mother would.
The pride of Mother Earth,
she survives and endures
in even the toughest conditions.
Her subjects, the whole Savannah, it seems,
bow down to this magnificent creature.
She lives and breathes feedom,
for none dare take it from her.
Her eyes, more rich and deep
than emeralds themselves,
speak her story without words.
And, oh! It is beautiful.
It is the story every child
wishes to live.
It is the story every mother
wishes to acheive.
This is the story
of the Lion.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.