Forest Splendour

White tigers try to keep awake, Yet keep on dozing off! So ultra cool, for goodness sake, They think that others scoff... Look at him now, he's not that strong, Sleep's beaten him again! Plum tuckered out, he can't last long... Bet he can't count to ten! White tigers like to do their best... They show off every day! They're happy most when they've impressed And not just thought okay! The strain soon wears, fatigue comes back And nobody's immune... And all at once their muscles slack, About late afternoon... This white tiger's now flat out, All restful, suddenly... Wondering how that came about - It's quite a mystery! He's run around and feasted well... He's warmed up by the sun... I think he'll stay there for a spell... Don't wake him, anyone! Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010. The poem is based on the magnificent painting by Stephen Gayford called 'Forest Splendour'. More Stephen Gayford poems here: denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com