The Tiger’s Aim

Don’t fumble my toss –
The key’s in your hands;
Not simply a loss,
The thread’s cut, leaving strands...

Your clothing shall cover
A fine body so tight;
So we must rediscover
Love’s torch burning bright!

But the stripes and the colors
Of this animal attacking,
Bear a resemblance to tigers
Whose aim has no backing…

So come, let’s explore
Your man’s awestruck aim;
In my haunches, there’s more
Than a regretful flame!