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One night within a travelers' inn, a special tale was told.
The teller was a bard of note, whose words were held as gold,
And with his tales he paid his way throughout the countryside.
News of his coming spread like fire and folk from far and wide
Would flock to hear the stories, which he used in place of coin,
Of witches, wizards, kings and queens, of battles knights would join.
But this tale told of summoning of creatures from afar
With leathered wings and breath of flame, each eye a shining star.
By firelight's glow, the bard began this special tale to tell,
And all who listened lost themselves within the bardic spell.
The words had power of their own and circled round the room,
And spiraled from the chimney, high into the sylvan gloom.
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The forest hummed as each word flew, and carried far the sound;
The bard's sweet voice reached other ears than those who sat spellbound.
Thus in the night the dragons came, all sharing one desire:
To enter in the tavern and to listen by the fire.
Their flight was swift and in a group they landed by the door
And moved toward the hearthstone, claws a-clicking on the floor.
Now all drew back in awe and fear save for the bard, who rose
And greeted with a bow each dragon avid for his prose.
Just then a wondrous thing occurred; a small child came awake
And saw the dragons proud and tall and felt the audience quake
With fear; this child stepped from the crowd and raised a tiny hand
To touch a dragon gold and red, who seemed especially grand.
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This creature was the Dragon King and larger than the rest,
And with a gentle wing he drew the child close to his chest.
The child leaned back in innocence within the King's embrace.
A look of joy and wonder spread across its mother's face.
The bard resumed his tale and all who heard it would recall
The night when dragons joined the people seated in the hall;
And from that time, when tales are told of dragons and their flight,
Another story casts a spell in halls by candlelight.
For from that eve, the fabled bard was never seen again.
His voice will nevermore be heard in taverns through the glen.
Yet when the dragons fly on moonlit nights, the group expands;
A dragon richly purple joins the flight through midnight lands.
This creature has a voice which thrills with haunting dragonsong,
And as it sings, the world grows quiet, memories strong
Of stories rich in dragonlore the bard was wont to tell,
And one child knows the truth of it and keeps the secret well.
Webmistress's note: This is an excerpt of a wonderful poem I found a few years back off a site called "Red Frog - Poems from the planet Earth"; the author was listed only as "Serenwyl". The website is no longer in existence, so if anyone knows who "Serenwyl" is or recognizes the poem, please contact me so I can give the author proper credit.