Doesn't want to hurt, but she doth breathe fire
I've re-leashed the dragon of my desire.
Hair singed, I've dragged her back into my cave,
where we will sip green tea beside the fire
and psycho theorize the dusty knave.
Once calm again she'll curl up like a cat,
dreaming of sonnets and sublimity,
licking fur and purring on the hearth mat;
usually she sleeps inside of me.
But sometimes knaves come looking for a match.
Once she is out, she is hard to put back;
those wings do make her hard to catch.
I've prepared a statement for those who ask:
Don't court the dragon unless you like fire--
she has a tongue of rapacious desire.
-Victoria Vaughn-Perling, Copyright 2005 -October 7th
Timestamp of last edit: September 2006