The Dragon Rider
Upon the edge where wild winds scream,
She rides the thread between dream and flame.
A cloak of stars, a helm of night,
She rules the dark on wings of light.
Her dragon, forged from storm and fire,
Breathes out the songs of deep desire—
Not songs of love, but of the sky,
Of battles fought and reasons why.
She does not fear the mountain’s cry,
Nor shuns the gods that burn the sky.
For every scar along her skin
Is proof of fire she holds within.
No crown, no throne, no courtly grace,
But still, the world has seen her face—
Above the wars, above the lies,
A streak of flame across the skies.
Some say she’s myth, a tale once told,
A ghost of steel, both fierce and cold.
But when the storm clouds start to swell,
They whisper, “Rider comes from hell.”
Yet not for vengeance, not for fame—
She rides because she bears a name
That once was lost, then found in flight:
A truth that burns, yet feels like light.
Thank-you for reading.
Much Love and Light,
Brenda Marie
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Fabulous poetry, Brenda!
Thank-you, Tim.
Love this!