Dragons

Dragons

What is it about dragons,
That tickles our senses,
The urge to draw or to write,
To imagine downed fences?

To soar up above,
On silver-tipped wings,
To roar and to dive,
All manner of things?

Impossible tasks to solve,
Lengthy journeys to endure.
With the aid of a dragon,
Every mystery so sure.

As the glory,
Of the dragons,
And their penchant,
for quick riddles.

Their flashing of wings,
And claws we adore.
Keep bringing us back,
Always wanting more.

So, with our ink pens,
And our paper.
We scramble to draw,
We scurry to write.

The presence of dragons,
And all of their great might.