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I look upon their beautiful fur, eyes dripping with innocence and light.
How I yearn to have one choose me,
I look and look again, follow and yet,
they have chosen another, and I am ashamed.
I pray to the gods, "I need one!" I plead, I feel they do not answer my call...
My hooves, as sharp as any stag, my antler tines, sharpened to perfection.
My muscles under my sleek fur are rock-solid.
I will challenge every stag in the forest, and win every fight if oh, one would lock eyes with me. "Silly little stag" for I am young, to think anyone would ever--- want me. If this passing season wins me no one, I will till the sorrows of stone.