Tigerlily

A gentle breeze,
A silent cry,
As the Tigerlily,
Moves silently by.
Knowing not of the darkness creeping,
The feelings of the world are sleeping,
Yet still she moves on with ease.
A mist creeps around her ankle,
Welcoming the silent stranger,
Telling of the growing danger,
And asking her to leave.
But she can’t hear the cries of the mist,
Without a sound, she walks on,
An Iris in her hand.
It gives little protection against the onslaught,
That she now has to face.
Then her gentle strolling walk,
Turns violently to a race.
The winds whirls around her hair,
Silently urging her on,
She gives a burst of speed and suddenly,
The Tigerlily is gone.