The Last Dragon
A Poem by C. Harter Amos
For all the animals thoughtlessly slaughtered into extinction
The great Chimère raised his regal head
And mourned the last of his children who lay dead
At his clawed feet, their beauty and perfection a thing to grieve
If only for a moment before it was time
To raise his massive wings to leave
This place he’d shared with his lifelong mate
Whose body was gone, her slaughter their kind’s fate.
Wherever the Beautiful One lay with her broken crimson scales
Chimère’s own heart couldn’t help but stay
For all of time without end.
The Drako would give his heart to only one
Until the far distant death of the galaxy’s sun.
The blue of his scales matched the sky
Giving no reason to look up, no reason to ask why
The massive eloquent beast should fly overhead unheard,
Not a beat of wing, not a whispered word,
Only the drop of tears that fell from blue skies,
From his beautiful lavender-blue catlike eyes.
He’d had friends who were human
In towns nearer Loch Lomond
But he was a prince of his kind
The nine black ridges along his spine left no doubt
To any who knew this obvious sign of royalty.
He could never live in fear
And the bottomless Loch Ness was near,
Its darkness suited him well.
The lake’s surface was as smooth as glass
It shimmered for a moment as Chimère Drako’s mass
Broke the surface and he swam below
In elegant movements, swanlike and slow
Like a dance to the depths, his gills suddenly filled.
He would stay there forever; no more dragon blood would be spilled.
His royal blue scales have long ago turned black
The ridges now soft along his once strong back
Mankind now thinks of Chimère Drako on rare occasions
When tourists take shadowed pictures during their vacations
At Loch Ness to catch a glimpse of the lizard illusion
We call a monster of mad delusion.
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