The sky is high on its red,
the kind that reflects sadness instead.
You can call it a beautiful, unequaled morn
with the echoes of dragon in mountain worn.
They, blood red eyes looking upward to dusk sky,
stood with heads together, wings folded with dragon cry.
Der Drakes, her mate and her only life-long companion,
had returned to her at last from the darkness’s canyon.
He’d tell her of promises, with the eyes so sad,
that they forever more be eternally glad
that the wars at last were ended,
and that fate to him one more chance had sended.
She, Théros Agdron, would look to him
with red eyes now blue, the beam
of the suns now fading the day and bringing the night,
and they’d launch themselves together
forever
in their first dragons’ mating flight.
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