Food from Thought

My father’s a Lion, all silver and grey,

Part kitten, part dragon, and king of his day.

The man has a mane that is peppered by time,

and a spirit of power not fit for a rhyme.

Oh what do I do with a Lion as he?

While prowling for prey he must rest on his knee…

The world is a weight and his bones hold him back.

He strides with his chin up and confidence cracked.

My lord of the Jungle, this grandest of kings,

Must muster his courage for less grandish things.

But I, his grown cub, will still trot-on behind

Her father the Lion, so fierce and so kind.