Cleaning drawers and bins and found this poem by my oldest son. He wrote it in grade school and he is now back at school, a Junior in college. I think it's quite good, of course!
Their fur is like little men running across the plains.
They feel of silk and they leap higher than the Olympics.
The sun, while shining, makes them seem like fiery beasts.
You can't hear or see them as they hunt their prey.
You can't see them as their dark souls run past and then
finally jump the prey and make the kill.
Tigers - King of the Plains.