Oh muse
Your callused hands sore
From endless fits of art
A Dragon and a Doe
Honey breath whispers
of a harmful conformist society
And the song that the old wrinkles sing
Your lions mane
fills me with cliche metaphors
My mind is put to rest from it's insistent battling
of passionate and lethargic thoughts
I wish to sing to you nostalgic childhood
watercolors
of gentle blue giants
Let's race together through the forest
And drink cold tea in the rain
I want to trace the runes on your translucent skin
But you don't deserve me
For I'm a petty mortal
In the presence of an Elvin Queen