Sometimes ...

 

Sometimes ... I want to wake the sleeping Dragon,
Sometimes sleep safe beneath his folded wing.
At times, I itch to punch him on the nose,
and times I cower from his blazing breath
lest he might scorch me ...

There´s times I shiver at his quizzing gaze
that probes the bottom of my soul for all my darkest secrets;
and times when I am faint with yearning
so he might take me on his wing to roam a molten, mystic sky.

And then again, I´m kneeling just beside him,
his spiky, scar-marked head right in my lap,
tending to the wounds the dragon-slayers left behind
- all those far-sung heroes, saints and blessed virgins,
that simply never understood
this lonely Dragon´s wounded heart ....
I do so ... now ... at last.

So, for a while, I let my gentle Dragon sleep
- and keep a careful vigil,
So no-one may disturb his peace.
For even a fearsome, fire-breathing dragon
DOES need a guardian now and then,
and maybe someone who can tend his bleeding heart ...

Silvia March2007