One to my Father.

I have never been in the dark, One may see it as luck, the presence of thee, Shall nourish thy soul. The king roars, and the roarsome tone of his, disciplines thee, never thought that could be me, I am the cub, that follows his steps. In utero, his presence was felt. He has never layed his hands to the one that breastfed me. The hair grey like the frost in the grass. The heir of his thrown. He says i'm ready, that now I have grown, as long his here, I won't be alone, I am happy that I'm one of his own.