^A little lynx goes a long way, maybe it needs more dragon
Here's a poem that started writing itself before I woke up.
My sweet tiger, he is my rock
He has a great, big heart and a great, big shock
Would not shake him from his love
So pure he took my foxglove
In his paw and drew me in
To that sacred place beneath his chin
We I can hear his fiery heart
Beat in time with that special part
Of me that is kept deep inside
Now that sacred place is where I hide