By Louise Molloy
He stands before the dragon
And sidles closer still,
No fiery breath nor fury greets him,
But eyes half-shut
And scales dull grey,
The dragon lets its tongue loll
And splutters loudly, ENTER!
He climbs each quiver
Of its quivering tongue
And peers into its dark, dark mouth,
WHAT BEASTIES LURK THAT KILL MY FLAME?
He peers down its dark, dark throat,
“I’ll need my weapons to cure your ill.”
“No worries, I’ll be back soon.”
- Inspired by Words+Pictures #2 poetry challenge. Louise said she took poetic licence and ‘The castle with its steps, dark door and hooded window turned into a sick dragon for me’.