A man left his home at the crack of dawn,
As did the doe and her new born fawn.
Both for the same reason,
To nurture their young,
Is it a treason?
If they don't see it as fun?
The doe heard a rustle in the green,
The man treads light and crouches,
As not to be seen.
He raises and aims,
Points and pulls.
The doe gets no time to say goodbye as she falls.
The poor little fawn,
Forced to bolt,
The scene with mother and father at a halt.
They both had a reason to be their that day.
The father had won,
Is it just nature's way?
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