Round and round I go, a funnel born from cloud below. I form so fast to most surprise, then sirens wail as fear will rise. I tear through all that cross my path, leaving ruin in my wrath.

Gliding through a city's veins, a cradle on still waters; it carries dreams beneath bridges and songs of serenades.

Endless wanderer weaving through lands, cradling boats and dreams, whispering tales of time's gentle flow.

I rule a golden kingdom, though I wear no crown, Where grass grows tall and the hot sun beats down. A pride is my family, though we never boast, We stalk through the shadows where prey fears us most. With a roar like thunder and a heavy mane, I am the fierce monarch of the African plain.

I have no rivers, Yet waves still appear. The sun rules my days What place am I here?