by Nick Gisburne
The dragon is the queerest of its kind.
He tells the girl who found him not to fear.
Excited, as his twisted tails unwind,
He conjures up a feast for her to hear.
Of lands where dancing dragons fill the sky,
Of iridescent oceans, where they swim,
He whispers, knowing he will never fly
Beyond the story fate has forged for him.
All gone, all ghosts, but he, the last, survives,
To tell her of those long-forgotten days,
When dragons without number lost their lives,
When wicked men unleashed their wicked ways.
Unshaken by the treachery, the death,
She hides her face in horror from his breath.
