Please don't ever stop writing poetry, Ariel! I love your poems!
The desktop changed again and now it's this:
And thus was this poem inspired...
In the rocks close by the falls
Among the moss a village clings.
And upwards to a castle crawls
The road used by the Widdle kings.
The windows glow like molten gold.
No lights the Widdles need at night,
For since they came, the legends told,
They shine like lamps with yellow light.
The Barking Dragon, brown as brown,
Comes rasping from his grimy den
And cleans himself while looking down
Upon the village in the fen.
Upon occasion he will slide
Down slippery stones, then scrape the ground
To frighten Widdle-folk outside,
And Widdle-warriors come around.
The Barker’s cat-eyes gleam and spark,
His twisted hand gropes left and right,
His talons sweep—a knight goes dark.
The Barker’s claws have snatched his light.
The Widdle king comes out in ire,
He wields a flaming golden staff.
The Dragon who now too has fire
Holds out his hand with grating laugh.
Then, quick as quick, he turns his back
And threads a path back to his hole,
He bounds from crack to sharp-edged crack,
His right hand clutching what he stole.
The Widdles shout; he heeds them not.
The fire is what gives him breath.
And so the battle that was fought
Gives one his life, the other death.
In case it wasn't clear, my theory was that the Barking Dragon needs the Widdle-fire to stay alive and therefore needs to kill a Widdle in order to get its light on its claws.