On yellow straw a dragon lays
Its head bent low from old, old age
Claws are rotten, brown and green
Its scales are now a dull gray sheen
Scraggly mane is all that's left, upon a withered, wrinkled head.
A cough from deflated lungs issues out,
A smoke ring in a final bout
The coming dawn is bringing death,
The one last dragon's one last breath
Starved, its broken ribs are showing
Freezing from the blizzard blowing
The morning rises on whitened eyes
Blind from years lacking light
One last sun it cannot see,
Wings are creaking anciently
Humans condemned the dragon-kind
The knights on horseback, a sleeping dragon they would always find
Fear aching in their leader's mind
He knows the Wyrm's mightier than man
Noblest creatures in all the land
None now left, except this one
Dying with the coming sun
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