I wish I had a way to enlarge my Bard pointalism so the detail would be easily seen.
The dragon is a poet holding his tablet with quill to nose in deep thought whilst cupping a nice leaf in one wing for his friend the ladybug to feel more at home in. There is another of his friends below his other wing, a coiled snake. On the tiles in front of him is his muse the scorpion. He leaves tiny tracks from the spilt ink along the marble tiles whilst leaving tiny tracks along the dragons mind whose ancient dwelling is a reflection of his ancient heart. The night goes on with the ice cream honey moon shinning, its reflection in a cracked mirror with stars and drippy candles all around. Ahh, A dragon in the fireplace, no home should be without one