Dragon’s Fire by Valormore De Plume

 

We are solitary predators

battling to the death over territory.

Females are smaller although,

more cunning and fierce.

The mating season is fraught with peril,

as lethal adversaries assess prospects.

The male must fly on his back,

vulnerable to the female’s option to couple or kill.

Her scent fills the breeze from the north

as she hides in the shelter of sinister clouds.

To surprise her would encourage opposition;

my swelling desire for her must be patient.

When first you soar across the lunar fullness,

your silhouette set the flame within me to writhe.

Cold silver light shines through your wings,

exposing your faultless femininity.

I stride upon the gentle wind,

while pursuing you through the darkness.

Eyes lend unconvincing assistance,

in the hollow black clouded night sky.

Silken swirls hasten through your beautiful scales,

betraying you not.

Elegant wings arrange silent slices of the night,

to carry you aloft.

Heart throbbing within your breast,

brings focus to target my quest.

We dragons court in extreme fashion,

for delight and wrath, both light our fires.

You will embrace me for your passionate desires,

or slay me for a whim.

Drawing near, you feel my hot breath

as this night starts in love, yet may end in death.

Your claws scrape me in pay back

as I thrust in to possess you.

Interlaced with one ember’s sweet burn,

we plummet with radiant colors.

You capture my pride to assimilate my essence,

a prisoner to your love, as you decide our destiny.

The terrain below rushes nearer,

as our passion intensifies to fulfillment.

Our destiny becomes apparent,

as we break off toward our separate territories.

I return to my lofty perch, reminisce of brief ecstasy

and savor the memory of holding you close.

 

© Valormore De Plume


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Who are you? Are you a brave knight? A warrior brandishing your sword, ready for battle. Are you a dreamer? Away with the fairies, losing count of fireflies whilst searching for Neverland. A goth? Who feels right at home with the monsters hiding under the bed, who loves to dance a dervish with the devil on the stroke of midnight. Or perhaps you are a dragon-slayer? Or a soul snatcher? Basking in the heat of an eternal flame. Or maybe you’re a witch? Hiding deep in the woods, practicing dark arts beneath the light of a full moon.

L.J. Diaz, Author of Catching Snowflakes

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