Yesterday’s a mirror where you
see no more than your reflection,
and tomorrow hides beyond the
windowpanes. But today is filled
with mysteries and wonders, and all
you have to do is look.
That was what Louisa told me
on the day she said goodbye,
before my weather turned to winter,
with snow clouds in the bedroom
and hailstones in the hall.
Louisa always kept the summer—
she warmed my nights and whispered
smoky secrets after dark. Even when
she set my hair on fire to emphasize
a point, I didn’t really mind at all.
Now she’s gone with the greyhound winds,
she’s joined the western chase to catch
the solar rabbit on its swing around the world.
She sleeps in the sky’s blue caves,
and she’s forgotten all our
quiet conversations.
I tacked a sign up on a pole, between
missing Max and Mittens, with quite
a generous reward, and contact numbers,
home and work.
But a month’s gone by, and no-one’s rung.
No-one’s seen my dragon as she swoops
and glides above the rooftops, and now
I’ve come to fear the worst—
that my beloved Louisa’s gone for good.
artwork
For various technical reasons, it can sometimes prove difficult to estimate the age of a wavelet dragon. The composite chart above shows the various developmental stages starting with the moon egg at the top left:
- wriggler, age 5 years
- child, age 20 years
- adolescent, age 50 years
- puberty, age 75 years
- adult, age 125 years
I hope that dragon twitchers will find the diagram useful.
This poem is beautiful and funny at the same time. Suspense built as I thought Louisa was a woman, then a dog, then found out she was a dragon. (Unless I’ve misread it.) I loved it.
Thank you. Apparently ‘Louisa’ makes more sense than I intended ;).