There’s a tiger in my bathroom, fixing me with feral grin, Golden eyes and shaded menace. Who the Devil let him in? He’s been sitting in my bathroom probably about an hour, I’ve just come in from the garden and I’d love to take a shower. Why is he sat in my bathroom? I just haven’t got a clue. He’s been there for simply ages and I’m busting for the loo. There's a tiger in my bathroom looking smug, complacent : “ Stout? ” Hope he hasn’t ate my missus! Strange! I’ve not seen her about. Great sharp claws within my bathroom. Long white teeth, look like they’d hurt. Licks a morsel from his whiskers; (hope he doesn’t want dessert.) There's a tiger in my bathroom. He’s been sitting there all day. I just nurse my stricken bladder, nothing else to do or say. What a friendly little tiger; that grim smile is just a fake. He just wants to read my poetry (Thought that I was William Blake). Now he’s sitting, quite contented in his fearful symmetry, While I sit upon the toilet spouting awful poetry. Soon he stretches mighty muscles; stands up, says to me“ Good Day! Sorry that I ate your Missus”. Then he softly walks away.     © By Thomas Vaughan Jones (TVaughanJones@aol.com)   Watch these pages for more poemf from Tom. In the meantime, click the links below for poems and stories by our other authors. Dawn Chorus Seeking Lakeside Aerial Dream Desert City My Thoughts On A June Morning Ghosts Flower Box Visitors I Saw My Daddy Once Again Daddy And.......for many others, click the index image. Graphics by Marilyn http://graphicsbymarilyn.com graphicsbymarilyn@yahoo.com