I have a little dragon friend

I have a little dragon friend
Who sleeps in my kitchen at night
And greets me each morning for breakfast.

He's smallish, you know-
No more than a foot and a half long,
Snout to tail tip-
And he's very kind,
Not like the mosters of legend at all.

He hoards no gold nor jewels,
He demands no maiden fair for food,
Acts no tricks upon unsuspecting guests,
And never once has he set anything afire.

He's green all over,
Save for his belly and the bands upon his tail,
And he changes his shades to match his mood or thoughts
To fantastical arrays of
Blues and pinks
And Magentas and violets
And reds and oranges, too,
With yellows and midnights
And browns and black eyeliner,
And all at his whimsical, fanciful whim.

His throat is a pile of jewels
In these colors which changes as he moves
And he moods
And I'm caught up in it like
A fish in a net in the sea.

He's quiet and never complains to me
Of things a dragon might complain of.
He lets me rub his strange little ears and his throat
Without squirming or wriggling away-
I think he humors me, because
I'm the one who feeds him each morning,
And brings him fresh water in which to play.

A nice branch and occasional splash
Is all that he requires,
Spending much of his days sleeping contentedly
On vines, up high, chin down and snoring,
If dragons snore.

I have a little dragon friend
Who sleeps in my kitchen at night
And greets me each morning for breakfast.

He's smallish, you know-
No more than a foot and a half long,
Snout to tail tip-
And he's very kind,
Not like the mosters of legend at all.