Off to the side, the old lion stood,
Gazing fondly at the pride.
He should feel bad, but he sure felt good,
It had been quite a ride.

He tried to focus in the past,
As history flocked his mind.
When, as a young cub, he was cast,
Into the jungle’s grind.

He had learnt quick and soon became,
A leader of the pride.
He was in front, when the tough hunts came,
One rarely saw him hide.
 

Soon, many a young cub, he then taught,
To hunt, to fight, to live.
Many a deer he had caught,
And shared!, he liked to give.

Oh!, many a battle he had won,
Ne’er ever did he wail.
Mistakes he’d made, and not just one,
His scars, they told the tale.

For him, the kill was paramount,
Politicking he could not stand.
No show nor pomp, no ego flaunt,
These had no taste, were bland.

But these soon became the jungle’s law,
And try as hard he might.
Though many a spoil in his paw,
He was soon to lose the fight.

These new wounds strange, they lasted long,
Were not like the ones he’d licked.
Oh!, they hurt more and they felt wrong,
He knew he had been tricked.

Mentor he’d been, mentor he’d seen
Good teacher, yet well taught.
T’was time to go, now a has-been,
No more HIS pride, his “ pride” was shot.
 

Ah….yes…………………..indeed………

Off to the side, the old lion stood,
Gazing fondly at the pride.
He should feel bad, but he sure felt good,
It had been quite a ride.
 

Copyright ©2003 Sundaram Srinivasan

Poet’s comments:

The sad change of the corporate jungle’s landscape!!