A very fairy tale of a tiger terror's tail,
At young boyhood age he had long hopeful nail,
In eternal hues, unknown of strife,
Living happily in vivid colors of life,
Awakened his spirit on other wilds,
Remain still and composed, he was really mild,
Getting gladness, upon the entropy of echoing earth,
Strong, calm, monotonous,since his birth,
He had a philosophy, 'chaous will definitely bring the morrow',
And deep passion fitted him, with nomadic sorrow,
From fierce foes, fleeting into peace to hustle,
He decided to wander the nearby jungle,
But, some old skin tigers were already there,
Giving him a local gesture, looked out when saw the peer,
In their happiest day of happiest hour,
He asked them of their residential pride and power,
As the first glance assured, definitely had ever seen,
The old knew him, offered the red meat they had been,
He stood and asked in an astonishing chilled voice,
Where they had come, if they knew him ancestor-wise,
They greeted mutely, in old reserved speech,
Surfacing all glance, brightening all breeze,
And replied so silently, in a cross questioning grace,
If he knew lifeless stands, that they were actually ghosts,
He had not interpreted them convincingly,in truest,
That seemed very jocular, he laughed while breathing air,
Taking it false and low, transcendent in consciousness pair,
Throwing back to the old, that was not possible in real,
In very circumstances he was not acquainted with that rill,
The old were self sprinkled, bounced it back,
Depicted his woodland bounds, coursing his gaiety trait,
Dialed all moral round, Interpreted indifference, and quoted,
In a carol wild,"then, you are a ghost".