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.


Ellie Maziekien


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