Requiem For Michael ©
No more is heard the leopardís call
Among the stunted trees
Which stand against the papered wall
To catch the cooled breeze.
No more the lion pads his feet
Upon the woolly field.
There, face to face, his foe to meet
And daily make him yield.
No more the ape will clench his hands
And beat upon his chest
So all will know that here he stands
A king among the rest.
No more the lion, no more the ape,
Itís lonely after all.
This jungle is a boring place
Without the leopardís call.