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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1139655
So, this all started because my Grandmother likes tiger lillies...
Beyond Savanah grassland,
where the wind whips golden straw,
the tiger lillies roar,
for their word is the law.
No pussy willows here;
with their cat-tails in the air.
Nor any dandilions,
with their golden petalled hair.

Forget-me-nots forgotten,
their poor mums wilt away.
Not even fierce snap-dragons
can keep these tigers at bay.
Their brilliant orange color
out-shines every tall sunflower,
and their heavenly perfume,
makes the lavender smell sour.

The aspen's have their bite,
but the tiger's have their claws.
Bear flowers can't out match
their great tiger lilly paws.
The bluebells have their music,
while the poppies have their flare,
Still,not even wise old sage
could withstand the tiger's lair.

While the tulips keep on kissing,
while the bleeding hearts still sway,
while the clovers remain lucky,
and the dogwood flowers play.
While we wish upon the shooting stars
to be strong and to stand tall.
We remember tiger lilly roars,
for their word is the law.
© Copyright 2006 museofshadow (museofshadow at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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