399. Slayer Of Dragons
Damp muddy cave, the dragon's dark lair,
Blood red eyes, a cold merciless stare,
Pointed yellow teeth, with a fiery breath,
Ugly misshapen form, the harbinger of death.
Moldy scaly skin, spikes upon its tail,
Stone hard skull, wings that never fail,
Thick poison spittle, dripping from its lip,
Long sharp claws, grown to tear and rip.
Great lost treasure, secured in a chest,
Ancient gold buried, deep beneath its nest,
Sworn by oath, forever it will guard,
Pain and suffering, it learned to disregard.
Tall and proud, from a distant land,
A warrior's eye, sharp sword in hand,
Standing all alone, many skills to wield,
Determined yet wise, taught never to yield.
Beneath the beast, lies the golden prize,
In the darkness, shines the dragon's eyes.
Sent to avenge, angered to his core,
Ready for battle, despite the monster's roar,
Keeping his distance, from the dragon's flame
Using the firelight, he takes careful aim,
With great strength, the sword he flings,
Piercing its heart, between its folded wings.
Blank staring eyes, no longer blood red,
The fire extinguished, the dragon is dead,
Warmed by victory, despite the cave's cold,
Slayer of dragons, has recovered the gold.
- Glenn Bergen, ( Ravensheart ), © Copyright, 2016.