My Dragon, The Tetralogy: Part 3. My Dragon, Can He Fly
By Ivor Steven
My wounded Dragon, stands so proud
His misty eyes, looking up 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, rumblings soar
My Dragon spews an almighty roar
And his gigantic jaws open wide
A bloodied tongue swishes from side to side
He swallows and belches another gruesome howl
A flame burst deep from his boughs
My Dragon frantically begins to respire
Again, and again, he exhales fire
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 doves
Magically rolling and frolicking he flies
Happily, he shrieks, and swoosh, down he dives
Majestically gliding, he arrives
My Dragon, again King of the skies
Ivor Steven was an industrial chemist and plumber. He has three self‑published books — Tullawalla, Perceptions, and Until Eyes Hear Sound — and is an appointed writer for Coffee House Writers magazine (USA).
