She-Dragons do exist!
Snorting smoke from my wrinkled snout.
In my cave, I've grown to love
the dampness, the serpentine madness,
to love the solitude of antiquity.

I retired centuries ago.
I refuse to slaughter a young prince
and gnaw on his bones in glory.
Because instead I would grip him tenderly in my talons
and ask:
Would you ever leave me?
Will you love me forever?
Then stroke a claw through his gold-blond hair
Kiss him and singe his cheek...

I am still the more beautiful of my sisters.
Found a lad for myself last winter,
So cloying, but he made me sad.
Really, I tried to kill him.
But his smooth white hips found their way
against these reptilian thighs, vestigial walkers.
It was he who bit me, flaxen hair
falling over his eyes, lips parted to whisper
bliss...

Escape was easy.
I unfolded my canopy wings,
no motion of goodbye.
One calcifying yellow claw scratched the stone
and with nostrils trembling,
this jurassic heart pounded,
pearly and shivering,
and I soared...
A child or two exclaimed at my legendary silhouette
As I fled between the snow-peaked mountains.

In my cave now it's always dusk.
My snout swings down towards the floor
and a tear tells all;
Indeed we She-Dragons are real.

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