My Dragon, Can He Fly.

My wounded Dragon, stands so proud.

Neck arching up, looking to the clouds.

Seeing graceful birds flying apart.

He feels a huge scar close to his heart.

My Dragon bows, and shakes his beastly head

But his enormous tail feels like lead.

Flapping one wing, then the other.

Dejected he looks, not even a hover.

Nostrils snorting, no sign of fire.

To fly again, his deepest desire.

From within I hear, gut-rumblings soar.

My Dragon angrily spews  an almighty roar.

And his gigantic jaws open wide.

A bloodied tongue swishes his fangs side to side.

He swallows and belches another gruesome howl.

A flame bursts forth from his boughs.

My Dragon frantically begins to respire.

Again and again his exhales are afire.

And gyrating his heavy green tail.

He spreads his wings like full sails.

Frightened at first, fluttering end to end.

My jumbo sized reptile gradually ascends.

Twenty, then fifty, a hundred leagues above.

Suddenly flying, like a flock of beautiful doves.

Magically rolling and frolicking he flies.

Happily he shrieks and swoosh, rapidly down he dives.

Majestically gliding he arrives.

My Dragon, again King of the skies.

 

Ivor Steven.