The Last of the Dragons



In a time long ago; Long before the bow and arrow
A creature ruled the world; On mountain tops wings
unfurled.
Across the sea echoed his roar; Straight as an arrow
he would soar.
He searched all around, years, But none could be
found.
His tears fell like rain; Deep in his soul he felt a
pain
The world was evolving; This problem needed much
solving
On how to protect his race; Against the unmerciful
pace
Of time; How strange these creatures with such danger.
With weapons they would hunt; Soon he would have to
confront
Thieves of his fledglings; Slowly pushing him over the
edge.
Murderers of his mate; his life long partner.
Once quiet and tame; He must now use the flame
He belted out bright fire; Survival of his race was
his desire.
Then the arrow; He cried out in sorrow
He was the last of the dragons; As the men, merry,
raised their flagons.
Now remembered in myth and lore; The dragon isn’t lost
for ever more
They exists as spirits; If you believe you will hear
it
Bright and clear; For all believers far and near.



Written by CatC,
(c) All rights reserved


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