Flynns' Dragons

Flynns’ Dragons

Flynn is a boy with ash on his hands,
With sparks in his pockets of fully formed plans.
He spoke to the wind in a language low,
That only the wildest of creatures know.

In valleys where silence was broken by flame,
All dragons trembled. when they heard his name.
Not fearful or scared, but all asking, why-
A boy would teach fire-bound beasts how to fly. 

He stitched them all, courage from whispers and smiles,
Showed wings how to open, and swoop for miles.
“Up,” he would roar, “the air is your own,”
‘Till doubt in their hearts was overthrown. 

Eyes-shut-tight, through clouds, they faltered and fell,
But Flynn never scolded, he knew they’d do-well.
For he, too, was yearning with each daring try—
A boy and his dragons, all learning to fly.