My dear lioness I am looking at you
On liquid sand silver reflections
Of your mane, chestnut curls gracefully falling
Afore your lucent eyes, black dilated pupils
Enclosed in glowing brown irises streaks of crimson
Brightened by the hint of a smile on dark lips
Of blood seducing me, as you glide your tongue
Over ostentatiously white teeth warning me,
You are as strong as you appear elegant and delicate.
I know, how you have lived, the adventures you survived,
The victories the defeats, the day you realised indeed
You are not a queen yet a magnificent creature,
Capable of humility deeply instilled as an impulse
In the abysses of your interiors where I can grasp
The intensity of your spirit, ineluctably content
With itself as it strives, to be as beautiful as it could ever
Be. My dear lioness the mirror does not do you justice,
I love you and I am immersed, in gratitude for your existence.
[Featured photograph: Lioness Portrait 1 by Johan Swanepoel]