He stopped dead in his tracks, and pricked his ears and heard.
The rustle of the forest, and the singing of a bird.
But it wasn't what he heard, that told this roo to stop,
was the scent he had picked up on, that made him cease his hop.
The smell of man his enemy, lurking in the trees,
A dangerous man with fire, creeping on his knees.
The roo then cocked his head, and twitched his little nose,
His paws and tail were rigid, for a moment, kept his pose.
He learned from all his senses, that he wasn't far from harm,
Man lurked beneath the tree tops, with his murderous fire-arm.
The roo began to quiver, with the fear he had inside,
 he jumped further in the bushes, not knowing where to hide.
Alas it was too late for him, the bullet did not care.
The burning in his shoulder, made him tumble in the air.
He stumbled on his hind legs, his tail got in the way.
Collapsed upon the forest floor, was pain that made him stay.
He went to drift away, but took just one last glance,
The man was running closer, so he didn't stand a chance.
This poor roo’s last memory was the rifle on his head.
The evil man took one last shot, alas, the roo was dead
our fauna should be free, and kept away from harm
they do not stand a chance, when man's friend is the firearm.
It's a cruel and callous world, while evil people lurk the land.
We should be teaching not to murder,to stop and lend a hand.
Instead of killing all our natives, so our pocket has a note,
or killing innocent animals, so we have a nice fur coat.
We should be taught to have some feeling, and taught that we should give.
To our fellow wildlife, so together we can live

 

©