
If you were to remember
The birth of dragons
And the times you played among them,
Hearing their feet splashing in the puddles,
Remembering their eyes of fiery emeralds—
If you were to remember,
Then you could run, calling after them,
You could call them and
They would return,
Trailing magic in their silver wings.
Then it could happen that
On the afternoon of a strange Sunday
They could unwind
The obtuse windings
Of the world of men,
Bound up in iron snares,
Releasing fire spirits, air fairies, wise feather-footed owls,
And the innocents entombed for millennia
Into an age of joy,
Where winged bees sing to the flower,
Toadstools dream by the melodious shore,
And the peace of eternal power
Settles over the primeval forest
Green in the darkness of the stars.
***
Written July 15, 2012
© Copyright, Sharon St Joan
A truly moving poem with wonderful images.
Thank you so much, Jean.
Hi Sharon~ I love the visual stimulation in this. Thank you! 💖
I’m glad you like it. Thanks so much!
Love this one Sharon!
I’m happy that you like it, Debra!
🐲