The Final Dragon
Fair Hilda, pass, I pray, that flagon.
I now must face my final dragon.
Valkyrie, deny not mead, the stuff
Of courage. To be courageous is enough.
Whence courage comes what do I care
As I approach my dragon’s lair?
Dragons twain are by me slain.
Dragon-slayer is my name.
Those days were spent in bygone youth,
And now grey age comes on forsooth!
O Hilda, beetle not thy brow.
Old men can show ‘em young’ns how.
What now I cannot, yet once could
Experience, doubt not, makes good.
Alone my fearful reputation
Ensures an easy amputation.
Yet of the issue irrespective,
Loss and gain are all perspective.
And what though “the worst” transpired,
Knights, once pensioned off, grow tired.
For life’s a drag, when dragons are no more.
To dragons then this flagon’s dregs let’s pour.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
