Flawless notes draws the King from his shelter,
catching her breathing, her chest heaving hard
Sniffing around with his nose deep in fine hairs,
holding her there in instinctive regard
Her journey a strange one, with no set direction,
following moon beams that she deems a guide
Her lute is the only possesion she treasures,
performing for pittances, playing for pride
She dreams on the pure sands, hushed on by the waters,
contented though tired, inspired by each day
Listens intently till she hears the rustling,
closes her eyes, puts the lute down to lay
He hauls his huge body and settles beside her,
not giving a roar, nor a snore, or a sigh
Come morning her sleep-place is circled by paw prints,
his Highness has left without saying goodbye.......
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