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| klingon poetry
by jlk0001 at 3/10/2008 5:27:48 PM
Running, loping
panting, leaping.
My prey's tast on my tongue,
it's scent I chase.
Bounding, I launch,
as steel springs,
undone,
I fly forth.
Touching sky,
as red wine,
russet sunset on my back.
I fall,
claws extended,
fangs wide.
And my prey,
wild and wiley,
slips away yet again.
Such is human love,
for the warrior.
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