Beneath the golden sun, the lion strides,
Through fields where whispered legends lie,
His mane a crown of ancient pride,
In his eyes, the secrets of the sky.

The grass bends low to honor his path,
Each step a rhythm, a heartbeat’s song,
In his gaze, the quiet aftermath,
Of battles won where the brave belong.

His roar, a symphony of might,
Echoes across the silent plains,
In the night, he guards with silent sight,
A realm where only courage reigns.

Beneath the stars, the lion dreams,
Of lands untouched by time’s embrace,
In the shadows, his spirit gleams,
A king of grace in nature’s space.