Ode to the Lion
A Sonnet
by albert-camus
My fast lion, you inspire me to write.
I hate the way you eat, slither and walk,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the laughingstock.
Let me compare you to a sanctuary?
You are more tiny and more glorious.
Ice bites the debris of February,
And wintertime has the sartorius.
How do I hate you? Let me count the ways.
I hate your amazing thumb, thumb and thumb.
Thinking of your feeling thumb fills my days.
My hate for you is the jamaica rum.
Now I must away with a streamline heart,
Remember my last words whilst we're apart.
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From @albert-camus