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This is my dragon. He found me today.
He had been searching for me a long time.
I lost him many years ago when I was young.
I took a wrong turn. Some had called it life.
So many have died of what they call life,
In vain their dragons searching for them,
I know I am fortunate, unlike them—
My dragon found me and shared his fire with me
Before he breathed his last in the disguise
He had worn all these years calling for me
(Dragons who must hide must also die).
He opened his mouth as if to swallow me,
But only whispered his dream for me—
I forfeited flight when I ran from my dream
But I can still believe his dream in me.
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About the Author
R Allen Shoaf
EROTIC RECKONINGS, my second volume of poetry, can now be purchased from New Plains Press or from Amazon. My third volume, PIED-PIPER PHILOL
What the Ferguson inferno has burned into me
What is healing?
A meditation on the "national pastime" involving my father and brother, the one an alcoholic who died age 49 in PTSD of lead-salts poisoning (from "bootleg" liquour), the other a decorated combat medic who died of heroin addiction age 25 killed by dealers.