The True King Poem by Zachary Clark

In a concealed
Enchanting clearing,
Is a deep Royal Blue river,
That shimmers bright
Refracting crystals, appearing as
Flawless diamonds in the moonlight

At this clearing's river
To drink at night,
When the moon shows
Bright as well as full
Walks the King in White,
Silent though striking,

He is rich in land
With fur loosely laid
Glowing almost pure white,
Contradicted by stripes
Midnight black in appearance,

Claws, sharp, and deadly,
His fur soft, his body hard,
Even around his lustrous eyes
Brilliant dark mooned blue,
These eyes reflecting
Leadership, respect, loyalty
From all the jungle

He emerges tonight
Through the hostess
Of tall glamorously green
Thicket of trees,
Tail swishing back in forth,
In perfect harmony
With his slow but sure walk,

Dipping his paw in the water,
He stares in remembrance,
At the past he sees
Within his reflection,
One of hardship, pain

He yawns, exposing his white teeth,
Bright and as glistening
As the grains of sand
That mold around his paws

He loosens up his jaw
Letting out his tongue
Magnificently pink,
He lowers his massive head
Drinking, long, deep, fearless

Then done with his
Youthful and refreshing drink,
Slowly stalks off
Into the tall wide trees,
From whence he came,

And as he disperses
The trees, grass, flowers,
Bow to the mien and aura,


Of the WHITE TIGER