A Little Dragon

I, met a little dragon in a cave,
where quiet ripples grow deep in the dark,
and the stars glitter with rays long and stark,
teaching me how to fight, alone and brave.

What orchard feeds what I have grown to crave,
if I decide to fly high with a lark?
Straight my ears only to his wisdom hark,
while my wings in a dull rut spread and wave.

Those keen to join me I mark at my shore,
and whisper which they need know in their ear,
when the sea they are weary to explore,

gazing at a fat port like would a deer
famished by many nights in a war,
as a treasured spoil of a buccaneer.