The abstract painting

The painting is a book, but no words are in sight

The book is a mystery taking flight

The painting is abstract, so I will never really have your insight

The colours are expressions, feelings to be shown

Swirling and twirling, an everlasting flow

The Tiger

His fur is soft and sleek, as fine as silk for the queen

His eyes were like the brightest star of the night

He stayed close to the longer grass, his body camouflaged as if nonbeing 

The sun, setting in the distance, made his fur glow like fire

And he roared, oh so loud, daring anyone to deny his might