Day 16: We Dream of Tiny Dragons

We dream of tiny dragons, she and I,
Their scaly hides, like scattered bits of glass,
Reflecting all the colors in the sky,
The fragile blue; the bright and searing brass;
The spiteful red; the white and gold; the hues
Of matte and metal winter, with a cast
Like tarnished silver heirlooms.  Could she choose
To tumble into some heroic past
Where dragons are no dreams, nor dreams pretend,
Where, in its starker hues, she could perceive
An antique cosmos spanning without end
The lonely shores of disused make-believe,
I know that she would leave – leave and delight,
And wrap herself in cloths of dragon-light.