Children of the Dragon

We are the children of the dragon; 
We bring his dreams to life,
And keep them alive until the time
He can resume the strife.

He was lord of dragons for years,
Whose names have gone in tale;
He ruled them all, and held them proud
In check by the Pendragon sail.

Underneath him, their breath of fire
Was turned not on the towns
But on those who would bring war
And disturb Britain's downs.

Their glittering scales were polished to shine,
And their claws lightly honed,
So that when they met in rushing tourney,
They would not kill, but wound.

We are the children of the dragon;
We remember Camelot,
And all the things she was to us,
And all that she was not.

She was not the perfect place they claim.
But in a sea of dark,
She stood against the fire and sword,
A kindling crown of spark.

And it is true, the tale how she fell,
Lancelot and Guinevere.
We will not pursue them because he wished;
But they had best be far from here.

Mordred is beyond our vengeance, we know;
And so beyond our king.
He rests in the green vales of Avalon,
Resting tail and folded wing.

We are the children of the dragon;
Arthur's dreams we keep,
Waiting until the dragon-king of Britain
Rises from his sleep.