In LIke a LIon

Moments pass, melting into hours.
Lion chilled air prickles her exposed flesh.
Quietly, a shiver runs across her spine,
though she doesn’t know.
She sits under a burning sun
that refuses to warm,
surrounded by natures
vibrantly colored carpet of beauty,
that her glazed eyes ignore.
For on this day,
she is consumed by thoughts
of contrived sin
and satisfaction.
The enticing taste
of rebellion and naughtiness
sits heavily upon her tongue.
Bemused,
she remains unaffected
by the myriad of petals
strewn by nature’s wrath.
Until…
the rich scent of white lilies
washes her with transition.
Their sickly sweet fragrance
(a remembered smell)
turns her thoughts
From self serving indulgence
of love and lust,
to those
of grief and death.

Aware now,
she patiently awaits
the entrance of the lamb.