The Search of the Last Dragon

© 2000 Mariana Lo
marianalo22@hotmail.com

With a mighty sweep of her great wings,
The last dragon left her lair,
Flying far on golden wings,
Flying in search of her long-lost race.
Over hill and mountain,
Lake and ocean,
River and stream,
The golden dragon glided
On wings gilded with sunlight and starlight.
Across the realm she flew,
Searching if her race be dead.
Long did she fly, never resting,
Trying to satisfy her inner unquiet.
"Where have my people gone?"
This the golden dragon asked.
She asked the fading clan of elves,
The hunted unicorns,
The dying griffins.
But none knew where her kind had gone.
As she searched the realm,
The old dragon saw many sights,
Some sad and some glad.
But everywhere it was apparent to her
The Age of Magic was passing,
Taking the great creatures of old
Elves and dragons,
Griffins and fairies,
Away with it.
One day in bright sunlight,
The last dragon's silhouette was spotted.
A great crossbow was readied and aimed
At the searching dragon.
The arrow was fired, and its aim was true.
Down, down the last dragon spiraled,
Her life pouring out in a stream of golden blood.
And at that instant, she knew
The old dragon knew her race was dead,
Gone with her unhonored death.
And the old golden dragon,
The last of her mighty kindred,
Died at last in peace.