The Maiden And The Dragon
written by: Amanda Eifert
@mandibelle16
Come down,
Lady on the balcony, come down.
Strands of hair glistening, glorious rays.
Lips ruby gems, pert and round,
Eyes with sienna sparkle gleam.
Come down from above, trailing lace as you scowl,
Disturbed by a life —
Thrown from tower’s sleep.
High above the mote,
With body ornate, and contours well-defined;
Features carved in ice, chiseled to perfection.
Yet, so soft inside, all your edges are round,
Ground down for the hands of a lover.
But somehow the world’s expectations,
Engrained within you — sprung your soul loose;
Rebellion became your dream;
A freedom beyond words.
You’re at the castle gates and the dragon’s no harm,
Your diminutive footsteps wander, trailing through castle dust.
And lowering the drawbridge you call the tamed beast.
Eyes wide open, eyes shut —
What do you behold past the tower?
What do you behold when you’re no longer prisoner?
A maiden facing the undefinable,
A perplexing world that threatens.
There’s no one to teach you, to guide you if you fail,
And dragons have no manners —
Although, I hear their conversation,
Abounds to fill one’ s heart.
For they know what it is to be alone,
They know, what they know —
Cruelty and patience;
Yearning for an open space to lift off.
They’ve wisdom enough for you to escape.
Wrath enough to guard you in,
Campfire’s beauty-sleep.
As you denounce a Prince,
He without courage and love.
You’re a young maiden stumbling
Ripping off the length of your dress,
You unhook the dragon’s chain,
And you stroke his scales of aqua fire.
The fearsome dragon so reviled,
Has wings light and airy; he nuzzles his queen.
His most beloved, even if you wore a paper-bag.
You shriek and then sail into the starlit night;
The maiden and the dragon —
Leaving titles and duties behind.
Free souls that wander,
The rule of the monarchs spurned.
Off to lands of violet skies, pink-cotton clouds,
Before reality sinks in.
You shiver with goosebumps,
Atop the dragons mass.
The rain pours but you’re both still soaring;
And every cold drop,
Is a reminder of the unknown,
The call of enticement to live or to die —
And to choose, for choose we all must.
To live a life we decide,
Or to remain —
Locked in the dim,
Withering in the tower.
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