Dragons in the Gum Tree Grove

Dusty Dragon

My dragon's wings are gray with dust.
I have not flown him since you left.
I've left the warrior dwarves to rust
I do not dance with unicorns
amid the eucalyptus.  I craft
no tales of mice with hunting horns
nor sing wild songs of elves at sea
on dolphin steeds.  There's no one here
to listen.  The summer meadow burns
with golden fire for none but me,
and, left alone, I no longer care.
I ought to get a box to pack
these relics away, but if I store
these things, I admit you won't be back.

Next Poem:  The Missing Queen

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Updated last on:  2001/06/03