Cheetahs have always been my favorite big cats. Something about their faces...
I've dreamed of Cheetahs, and here's a poem that came from one of those dreams:
Dreaming of Cheetahs
I stand in the bedroom of my childhood.
I open up my pencil case
a living Cheetah and a wolverine
freeze-dried and condensed there.
I take them out and watch
as they grow into their real size.
They begin to fight each other
with much snarling and lunging.
I wonder which one will win.
I think it will be the Cheetah.
I stand on the porch of a house
I do not recognize.
I see a Cheetah running out of the woods,
directly at me.
I stay where I am. The Cheetah
curls up beside me and
puts her head in my lap.
I pet her. She begins to purr.
I am a cheater.
I wear cheaters,
glasses currently broken
at the stem,
glasses that can’t wipe off
the grey slipper in my left eye.
I play with and on words, as Cheetah becomes Cheater in my poem, and eyeglasses sometimes are called "cheaters."
Wish I could go on a safari and have this experience!