My Roar Is Fading
To the west or to the east,
I was king of the beast.
In the jungle I was once respected and feared,
Whenever or wherever I appeared.
I stood majestically proud,
To me all creatures humbled themselves and bowed.
No one ever dared to touch my crown,
Now hunters and poachers want to take me down.
Once when I had roared,
I could easily frighten any hoard.
Then when I stood solemn and ferociously I growled,
My subjects they ran and howled.
Kings like myself are now being killed,
While hunters are excited, elated and thrilled.
Through the blood of royalty I am now wading;
My roar is fading.
Randy L. McClave