Lion in a Crimson Cage - Prose Poetry

"Lion in a Crimson Cage"

Something wakes me from a fit slumber,
I see bright crimson bars,
as the cold concrete ever so hard
mats and tangles..."My fur?"

In my red rage,
I feel like a lion in a crimson cage.
In the dark with constricted,
dilated tiger eye pupils,
no scruples,
nocturnal habits of which I'm not a bit ashamed.

I,
the fiercest quadruped prance,
I prance back and smoothly forth,
I want to spring from amber rock to covered branch,
pursuing you,
you my gorgeous prey...Suddenly,

An electric blue spark jumps hurriedly from my glossy fur ear,
I pivot my pendulous eyes to see a vision of freedom.
If only I wasn't in this stinking crimson cage!!!

I awoke with a start,
in a red room with black curtains,
home in bed with long claw marks on the wall by my head.
"Was I dreaming?"

It's just a feeling!
Being a lion in a crimson cage,
I laugh,
I roar,
I curl up and enter a blissful rich sleep,
all the while thinking,
"I'm free!"

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