Lord of the Past
Deep within the lair he slept;
around his gold he curled,
though dozing, careful watch he kept;
his mighty wings were furled.
He waited, ancient and alone,
at rest, his fire an ember,
his visage weathered as stone,
days of old he doth remember -
a time when men were meek and soft
when powerful creatures soared;
hunting; diving from high aloft,
fire spouting as they roared.
So he guarded his treasure
hidden in marble cave,
dreaming of taking the measure
Of a knight, tall, proud and brave.
Solitary, the last of his kind
in his cavern, bedecked and bejeweled,
he dreamt of a wondrous, olden time
when regal dragons ruled.
3/14/01