Red crumpled hair under the cap,
Blue eyes looking so strined,
Like a snake he crawls by the track -
He is a hunter, and it makes him great.
Young proud boy, his power's so strong!
He tells the rest, what they want to know.
But he doesn't care about escape,
He feels free, and it drives him mad.
Sometimes his eyes were full of tears,
And tears then fell on the sand of beach -
He can be hurt, but he is not weak,
He always struggles for being the chief.
Like a savage he runs round the blaze -
He never minds about his acts.
But he wouldn't like to kill his friend -
He just feels free, and it drives him mad.
Summer 2001
The Leader
© Copyright: Susan Johns, 2002
Свидетельство о публикации №102120100527
Свидетельство о публикации №102120100527
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