Through the sleeting rain of gray,
The shale of winter's coldest day,
The knight came riding in his best,
Soaked and chilled down to his vest.

Rhythm of the hoofs and rain
With echoes of the why he came
Into these nether parts of sod,
Bereft of warmth of green of God.

In honor carried he his shield,
His sword was kissed he would not yield.
Instead alone upon his steed,
Intent in his appointed deed.

The dragon in his hidden lair
could see the rider riding there.
Another come to find a story,
Seeking fame and wanting glory.

In his cave of rocks hid sure,
The dragon smells the battle's lure,
Yet looking on the young knight's face
He feels a strange and giving grace.

This dragon in his countless years
Had faced so many unfound fears.
So many knights so bold and brave
Too easily sent to their grave.

Yea, from the rocks his plan is laid.
He is set sure and unafraid.
To the sky in thunderous flight
He gifts the knight this wanted sight.

The dragon's roar is heard for miles.
But neath it all he only smiles
As cold, the steel finds true it's mark,
There in the rain so damp and dark.

Sore tired of the fight and kill
long ago void of the thrill,
The dragon, feigning a winged retreat
Dies there at the young knight's feet.

Red blood runs pale into the storm
From his majestic mythic form.
The knight cries out in great relief
Shaken and cold beyond belief.

Stilled for a moment pausing there,
This sight he knows is oh so rare.
He plucks a scale of shimmering green,
His trophy from this beast of mean.

Through the sleeting rain of gray,
The shale of winter's coldest day,
One knight returns his sword to lift,
Because of this old dragon's gift.

10/20/2001

Posted on 10/20/2001
Copyright © 2024 Mary Ellen Smith