Tigers In Winter

The tiger cubs looked on in fright, For they woke up to snow! Yes, there it was... so cold, so white, Laid on the ground, aglow! It made a somewhat crunchy sound Beneath their pressing paws, The sort of sound that could astound, A sound that none ignores! Then came the time to have a drink, My word, that froze their lungs And then more snow to make them think, Still falling on their tongues! Ho, hum! They sighed, as tigers do... How long will this stuff last? The novelty, no longer new, In fact, they looked aghast! No central heating, like I've got! No scarves, or boots and such! No coffee in a cup so hot! Which I like very much! Cold whiskers, which each tiger rubs! Cold paws! Cold breath! Cold... tums! I pity tigers and their cubs, Each year when Winter comes! Denis Martindale September 2017. A poem based on the magnificent Stephen Gayford wildlife painting. Google search phrases gayford prints and Stephen Gayford poetry and also for Heaven and Earth Designs...