Little town USA.
Sitting on the front porch late at night.
Trees standing guard.
Geckos eyeballing my every move.
My Black Box is within reach. What’s inside?
A Lion with a crown is staring me down.
A cool breeze crosses my path.
Eighteen feet deliver goods to the shire.
It snorts and grunts until it finds its mark.
The Lion is taunting my every move.
I reach for the only weapon at hand.
With one swift cut the Lion’s head falls.
A breeze has taken up the fight.
Will it allow a simple pleasure tonight?
Rhythmic sounds are stealing my thoughts.
A deep horn blasts across the land.
The Lion’s foot must be lit.
An orange bodied dragon lets loose an impressive breath of flame.
The fight is in full swing.
Round one goes to the wind.
The American Flag is ever present.
This is what it represents.
The breeze is relentless.
It allows me one chance.
I do not hesitate.
The Lion’s scent is intoxicating.
My mind is taken to a musty dark swamp.
Spanish moss hanging from ancient Bald Cypress Trees.
In the distance a smoky breeze carries a frost.
The cedar is pungent and beautiful.
Who put a pot of coffee on?
Ghosts are waiting for us inside.
Dare we sleep?
The Lions foot burns perfectly.
It is as beautiful as a King’s Crown.
I am hypnotized by its ruby red glow.
The Lions head is lying next to me but he continues to fight.
Drawing in his soul, he resists.
I must double my attack.
The favors are complex.
Half way through he will not give up!
The fight is very rewarding.
This Crowned Lion is getting old.
His mane is turning grey.
The fight is almost over.
A black sky is dotted with ageless light.
I am perplexed by the Lions breath.
I am at peace.
My chairs moans beneath me.
We all are growing tired.
The fight has come to an end.
Future battles will be fought with this worthy opponent.
The breeze stands with its ovation.
On this dark and warm night.
Two have fought a satisfying fight.