You are. 

You are a midnight black 

 snow-speckled wolf, 

sunset-coloured eyes flashing 

dangerously, like a wildfire. 

You are September, 

Casting your magic  

On the withered trees, 

Snatching the desperate leaves 

From their aging branches. 

You are a snow leopard. 

Patterned, silver coat shimmering, 

Grey, stormy eyes wise and alert. 

You are the memory of a birthday. 

Balloons, banners, tinsel, 

All still flashing by, 

As though not a day has passed. 

You are a squeaky, dishevelled dog toy, 

Once smiling face 

 lopsided and wet, 

Tail flat and ashamed. 

You are the impossibility of a ghost, 

Barely there but hanging on, 

Last droplets of life clutching 

 to the gnarled, transparent skin. 

You are a broken chair, 

Chipped and unwanted, 

A lonely leg abandoned in the  

Middle of the room. 

You are a melancholy, shrivelled plant, 

Once beautiful, magenta petals now crumpled 

Like a scrunched clump of used paper and 

Bent, prickly twigs snapped and broken. 

You are a palm tree, 

Towering, grass-green leaves, 

Looming, high above, 

Not even glancing at the other trees. 

They are inferior to your healthy green branches. 

You are the anger of a volcano, 

Sucking up all the energy that you can, 

Preparing to breath your curse on all 

The miniature houses below, 

Your devious brain erupting your anger, 

Letting your rage known to everyone…everything. 

You are the anxiety of a distressed cow, 

Determinedly attempting to escape the 

World…to escape this poem… to escape space…to escape life….