On a whim,
the idea’s began to swim.

Every word, every line,
I began to write my rhyme.

I became passionate and insain,
as I spit out my ink.

Like a fire breathing Dragon,
my poetic passions
burned from within,
waiting to burst forth
from the poet within.

Every moment I waste,
I now foresee,
a fragile quill an ink pen,
scratching the parchment
with its eagle like claws.

Soon the Dragon within me
will bleed out
from beneath my skin.

I then will write my poetry,
releasing the poetic Dragon
deep within me.*
*
© By Amanda Shelton