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She danced with grace, as a swan
He was inflamed, a roaring dragon
She swayed, a willow upon the lawn
He sipped warm wine from his flagon

With parted lips and feline eyes
She drew the breath from him 
Her motions slowed, he started to rise
when he saw tanned legs, so trim.

One hand told him, Not yet and stop.
She removed a flower from her hair,
a chrysanthemum of Autumn's crop.
She offered it to him with much flair.

He stood majestic as a pine in Spring
The moon peeked over his shoulder
It was then the swan began to sing
With words of love, she grew bolder.

Her voice, snowflake soft on Winter's day
stilled the dragon but not his breath of fire.
His heat sweltered, hot as sun's Summer ray.
She burned his soul with passionate desire.

When her swan's call reached it's last trill
His hands reached out to draw her near.
Candles flickered on each cliff's rock sill
as he bent and whispered in her ear.

Tonight you danced and sang just for me,
My swan, you are my prize, my treasure.
You captured your dragon, felled as a tree.
Now I shall lavish you with love's pleasure.

She woke from the sound of his fierce roar.
On his pillow was a scorch burned black.
Her feathers ruffled, she watched him soar
Content with knowing tonight he'd be back.

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