Saturday

George

Day 7 - Meet George. George was born in Africa. He lost one of his tusks while playing with a log. He also likes to play with huge tires.

Look closely at George's eye. Does he speak to you as he does to me?

George…

Look at me
he whispered silently
not with words
but with his eyes

see me…
please…
he drew me in
I couldn’t pass him by

What might he have to say?

he looked at me with eyes
that could see into my soul
listen to me, he pleaded
let me show you what I know

he held me captive with wizened eyes
chains as strong as the iron bars between us

he spoke to me of freedom
he showed me carefree days
spent on dusty plains…
watering holes…torrid rain

I felt the elation
of running with the herd

as he spoke to me of yearning
I began to understand
that he was home…
yet his spirit longed
for things that might have been

hear me, he spoke silently
please…. just know who I am.

5 comments:

kaye said...

His trunk drooping over the fence, his sad eye, and all of those wrinkles make him look so sad. Yet another great shot.

pidge said...

Beautiful shot, wonderful poem!

Laurie L. Black said...

Awwwww he's beautiful...so sad looking. Gorgeous poem too! :)

mike fairbanks said...

Cool Pic, Do their tusks grow back? Wish we had a zoo or some wild animal place nearby to play with the cam at...

Elizabeth Abbott said...

Wonderful shot!!