The Tale of Dracon and Anarion Jones

This poem speaks to my soul! Amazing prose from the Dragon’s Lair and my friend, Wendy Anne Darling!!! WOW!

The Dragon's Lair

DRAGONSThe Tale of Dracon and Anarion Jones

Anarion Jones, with her dark hair flying

Walks Welsh mountainsides on tiptoe,

As if she purely skims this Earth

Yet never touches it.

Dreaming of flying, her long skirt rustling,

like a flurry of autumn leaves

She bathes in banks of daffodils

Their sun-warmed scent like perfume on her silken skin.

Here, she is herself, far from the fury of the fighting,

The joy of life surrounds her like a cloak.

The distant screams of swords and men

Are swallowed whole, an offering to the wind.

Nobody comes here; she is alone, she thinks

Yet, today, amongst the breezes, lies a presence.

Something different in her usual world

Something warm, mysterious.

“Be not afraid, my little one.”

A lilting voice speaks softly in the listening air

And eyes, the size of dinner plates,

Blink back at her from cover of a bush.

Anarion…

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