Smoky

He has a long cool stride
and eyes like giant pools of deep space,
where stars leave smoky trails
like the mist in the hills
he brushes past
on his way to see the dragons.
He knows every dragon song
and all I’d like is to hum a bit with him
as we stroll through a widening night,
trying to avoid being burned
or falling off the edge of the planet.
I think he knows secrets, like
how hope is a myth
like an echo of a dragon song.

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