Bohemian Jungle

The regal cub sleeps, her sentinel
A toothpick vulture, perched;
Had Nature spurred – had teacher learned –
The Sun would rise and not felt.
Those lessons unlearnt are built
In ores of walls, gold, ichor, azul,
In grassy tables, eateries and quilts,
Watch at your peril, or see me now
I’ll starve like a king, you’ll drown in my sheets.

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