Wednesday, 10 June 2015

The Wind Moans

The wind moans
And the dragon flies.
His breath is all consuming.
It sears the throat
And her soft flesh.
Till she is lost.
Forged into something else.
Fused by the heat.
Not old, not new,
Not here, not there.
Till time and the dragon
Put her down.
Leaving her chilled,
All ashes and alone;
Long to remember.

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