Her Fangs

She's a creature of the night.

With a flick of her tongue, she tastes the air,

The thrill of the hunt, a primal affair,

As she prowls through the darkness of night,

Her fans are like daggers, ready to strike.

But to her, they're a thing of beauty,

A testament to her strength and duty,

And with a grace that's all her own,

She hunts and stalks and rules her throne.

And in the darkness of the night,

They are a thing of pure delight.