Beneath the canopy of the ancient trees,
Roams the king with silent ease,
His golden mane, a crown of pride,
In the heart of the wild, he does reside.

With eyes of amber, fierce and bright,
He rules the day, commands the night,
His roar, a thunder, a call to heed,
The mighty lion, a noble breed.

Through grassy plains and shadowy glades,
His presence felt in sun and shades,
Protector of realm, a fierce defender,
To his kin, a guardian, a gentle sender.

In the circle of life, his path is grand,
A legacy etched in the endless sand,
The lion walks with grace and might,
A symbol of power, a beacon of light.