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|A poetic compliment to the story of the white tiger. This is has actually been published in a book of anthologies.||
In the gently falling snow,
he waits patiently.
Like a giant snowball,
drizzled with chocolate syrup.
Feirce but soft blue eyes peirce the still silence
of the night.
Moving as quietly as the falling snow,
only leaving shorwded prints in the white blanket.
Eternally strong, ever vigilant,
Living for the hunt.
He spies the deer;
he rushes, strikes, kills.
Blood stains the virgin snow,
But does not tarnish his coat.
mighty hunter and vigilant warrior;
|The Caring Stepmother||Mutate|