The scornful yellow grass swiftly blowing against the breeze.

The insects flying with their annoyingly abuzz.

The inevitable yet essential heat, life needs to thrive in.

And the amber lit eyes watching from a distance.

Those eyes;

They’re always watching,

Observing.

This furred beast we talk about, full of potential and will to act.

And this dainty long horned gazelle it wishes to prey upon.

Yet the beast does not pounce on its suspecting prey.

Why you must ask ?

Well that question simply seems to boggle our minds as well.

The beast knows every little move the gazelle has;

The games,

The act,

The show it plays to confuse the beast.

But why doesn’t it make any move ?

Maybe it’s because the timing isn’t right,

Maybe the beast has grown tired of waiting

Maybe the beast has everly doubted there’s no need for me to pounce on her.

And then the beast has made up his mind and walked away.

Tired of the waiting game.
© PomPurin