The Mosquito's Bite Poem by Shashwat Chaterji

To tell a story I wield my pen,
Of a poacher who waited outside a den,
He cocked his gun and took his aim,
To shoot an animal he knew was lame.
The pug marks on the mud,
Revealed that it hobbled,
And instantly the poacher knew
That many a time it had stumbled.
Time flew by, the jungle became darker,
The night grew older, the huntsman became wearier.
From inside the den, he heard a soft growl,
And hoped that the tiger would soon be on the prowl.
Out of its home, the predator was on his way,
But little did he know that now he was the prey.
The gunner fired with deadly precision,
At the tiger in his sight,
But at that instant, from a mosquito,
His trigger finger took a bite.
The shot awakened the entire jungle,
But it did not hit its mark,
The bullet zipped past its target,
And slammed into a tree's bark.
The Hunter cried out in pain,
All his efforts had gone in vain!
The tiger turned around and fled,
Into the undergrowth, across a grassy bed.

A miracle saved this tiger but many others are not so lucky!