Layabout Poem by Denis Martindale

The tiger tried a morning run
To build an appetite,
Then laid down gently while the sun
Shone down with all its might...
Somehow the tiger changed his mood,
Content to stay unmoved,
With less regard for wholesome food
In favour to be soothed...

The mighty tiger feared by all
Was no more king but slave,
No need to hunt, no need to brawl,
As if all power to save...
As if to pace himself midday,
At peace twixt sun and earth,
As if he'd found a place to stay
And contemplate his worth...

To some, he was a layabout,
An idler, nothing more,
Yet even kings are known to flout
The least and strongest law...
So who are we to judge him now,
Like critics who discuss?
Let's let him soothe his furrowed brow,
He hurts not one of us!