Whoosh the trees rustle
The night sings it’s lullaby and that when the panthers will come,

Their sleek black fur moves silently under the undergrowth, it slinks under the shadows

It’s body brushing against the leaves, egging it to continue singing it’s song. That’s when the panthers will come.

Their emerald eyes flash
Suddenly and poof they’re gone disappeared into the night

That’s when the panthers will go.

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