Fanged jaws do drool as dragons fall in line,
upon a sacred effigy of storm.
Where blood and bond become a crease in time,
to sever fragile sight, so seldom born.
Keen claw does come to slash your inner eye,
where feathered hope does shatter on the floor.
And silver scales shine mirrored glint to fly;
yet man does lock his key in every door.
Prepare your draft of inner potions lore.
In pewter goblets carried through the years.
Enchanting love and innocence once more,
in laughter carried on the sound of tears.
Leave horded memories of hurt behind.
To soar your silver wings on tranquil mind.
Gold trophy winner
Adding your comment:
and much love~ Desire~*~
It's always wonderful to read your work, I love it, a wonderful sonnet..
