The lighthouse in the midnight
resembles the dawn of the day.
Followers flock to the light
to glimpse at the perspective of life.
A seedling so small
can become an oak.
Just a sprinkle of rain
is an insult to the tree,
its knowledge of living
is a cliffhanger
to those who gaze at its greatness.
Moments are fleeting
like the muscles
of a Cheetah’s limbs across the African plain.
Looking upon the wrists at the time,
the chartreuse sky
eliminated the thought process-
the contemplation is over.
By L.S. Watson
The Roaring Lioness 