The Lion on the Bed

As I sat down at my desk, I opened my laptop up.
A lion with a golden mane gently trod into my room.
I did not notice him, so instead I scanned the internet.
He looked at me gently and steadily, with flaming eyes.
I searched for webpages titled "Evidence for Lions"
The lion climbed upon the bed and lay down, head erect.
I sighed and placed my face in my hands. Videos.
Majesty and beauty leapt like flames from the lion.
I did not know him, I did not see him.
The lion's heart beated like a steady heavy gong.
I opened up another video, and then I heard him.
The lion on the bed gazed at the back of my head.
The video was a song, the roar of a lion.
The lion on the bed saw tears stream from my eyes.
I turned and before seeing him I knew he was there.
The lion on the bed.
I wept openly and bitterly for my lion-hunting,
And I bowed down before the lion on the bed.
His waving cloak of gentle fur was like silk under my fingers.
I pressed my face into his mane, and wept anew.
The lion nuzzled his head into my neck.
Peace like a cloud descended on me.

Now when I walk, I walk beside the Lion.
Down the hallways of my school the Lion walks beside me.
Gently and quietly he walks, this Lion on the Bed.