They say the dragon’s treasures
--The jewels, the crowns of despotic kings--
Are guarded well with fire and might
But what few pleasures bring
To have a sword of shale
Sharpened on the whetstone
To have no valiant steed,
Only gilded currycombs
It brings no resolution
No cease to his heart of fire
No cure to his ferocity
No peace to his desire
But when he releases his greed
For the passion that he bears
He’ll see a new light shining
From the gems that he shares
And if she can see through fire
--The ruby red, the emerald green--
Let him cover her in his wings
Then they’ll know what treasures mean
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