'Dragon's Blood' is what it said on the packet. I wondered, how did they get it? How did they dry it? Or, if it was synthetic, how did they know what it smelt like? I set down the sandy pyramid, let a flame lick at it. It didn't take at first, of course. Then it glowed, and flared right up; a conical dragon scab aflame. I blew. The smoking dragon's blood bellowed back at me, fragant tendrils muddling with my hair and skin. I sat back and watched. Slowly, a dragon's soul escaped the powder prison, released by the fiery breath of a comrade (perhaps), that someone had so cleverly caught in a Zippo.
i really love this poem!! the imagery you have captured is fantatsic..the last two stanzas are beautiful...i love your choice of words...they flow beautifully. this rocks!
