And shall ye fear the dragon's breath
because his heart ye do not know?
And thus ye wish him painful death
employ the means to make it so?

Proud heroes all, to young and old,
compelled to act as heroes may
with strength of steel and manner bold
to save all men, the dragons slay.

Thus all his brethren met their fate
on blades of knights both true and brave;
that fear of mortals thus abate,
destroyed and sent to fiery grave.

But dwells one still whose heart doth beat
a mournful tribute to his kin
whose time on earth was passing fleet
and like shall not be seen again.

Alone he sleeps beneath the moon
in rocky mountain solitudes
wings in tatters, soul in ruin,
his breath, not fire, but pain, exudes.

And weeps great tears for all the loves
that he has known. For them he yearns
and for his children, gentle doves,
who died at hands of men unlearned.

His ache shall have no earthly ease
there be no healing for his heart,
his funeral keen shall haunt the breeze
until this world he doth depart.

He thus lifts ragged wings to flight
dark silhouette against the sky
to soar aloft, full lonesome sight,
for he shall be the last to die.

Sandi Raub
darcysmail@yahoo.com