The Tiger - George Andrews

The Tiger is its own friend

When the time comes to meet that depends

On its evolutionary partner or friend

For a brief moment, its silent is broken

Only to move with extreme stealth and caution

As quick as it came it returns to its notion

It will kill without thought that is for certain 

Only to feed for creed and not for greed

It moves with grace, and avoids the rat race

Its roar is appealing and you will be screaming

When you look at it straight in the face

A stroke of its tongue, you will bleed to death

Your feeling for life will then regress

Hoping that this is a dream none the less

The feeling for life you will want as a friend