St Maurice's High School: Jo-Anne Moffat




He slowly, silently stalked fowards,
Paws like oversized golfclubs.
He waited to pounce,
Growling menacingly.
His mouth baring rows of daggers,
His golden eyes ferocious.
He shoots like a bullet from a gun,
Away into the wilderness,
His red and black body screaming danger.

by Jo-Anne Moffat