Ashwin Vanderbilt

you sit at your desk, doing something. Writing a book maybe, When suddenly. A crow, flies over at your window. A rolled up paper in its mouth, You grab and open it. *it reads: Dearest Princess of the Braize,

Might I steal a moment of your time? And perhaps your company for the quiet evening beneath the stars?

If your heart is willing, I await your reply with hope.

Yours, Prince Vanderbilt*