TIGER IN THE NIGHT
There’s a tiger
At the bottom
Of the garden.
Sitting in the middle
Of the apple tree,
Pale green leaves
Curling all around him,
Small green apples
Tapping his bright body
.
He waits for nightfall,
Padding quietly
Through the darkness
To me, where I sit,
Sleepless, by the window.
His claws rattle
On my heart.
Ripping away my defences,
Bringing sadness,
Doubling up on sorrow.
The night has gone,
Here comes the dawn
With the bright tiger leaping
Into the brighter sun,
Flowering the apple tree’s
Small blossoms of love.
My eyes close
And I sleep.
©2023 Gwen Grant
Poems by Gwen Grant 
Oh, how lovely Gwen! I must admit if I spotted a tiger sitting at the bottom of my garden, I would die of fright!! A delightful poem.
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Your first reply is here, Sharon. I hope your machine is behaving itself now. Glad you liked the poem – and today it
feels like Spring!
Gwen.
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Oh, thanks for letting me know Gwen. My laptop does strange things! Glad you got my messages. Yes, it feels like spring, I was getting fed up with the long cold winter! Lovely poem, once again. Kind regards. Sharon
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