awakening dragon

The dragon twitches in his sleep
One by one golden eyes open
He rolls up on his stomach

He’s making that tongue lip sound
Creatures make
When they just can’t quite make out
that taste in their mouth
Titanium claws rake though
ancient bones and spoor
He stretches . . .
First one wing
then the other
Oh that felt good

Is that thunder or his
Burning heart and copper wings
Is that Lightning or his
Relentless mind and eyes of gold

Nerves of steel and blood of iron
Blood the color of Fire

He . . .
‘Walks’ just doesn’t say it
He glides to the mouth of the cave
And finds a day
The color of pewter
Finds a day
That is no longer clean
Finds a day . . .

Releasing himself into the day
He becomes a ribbon in the wind
He becomes the color of the day

You have to really look to see him

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

2 thoughts on “awakening dragon”

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