Knight Poem by Christoph Praus

The Righteous flew,
Through brook and brush,
Fell breath upon his heels,
A dracjon's wing against the sky,
Sought to make a meal;

And though his crime was right,
Though just a saviour he,
Our knight still felt a twinge of guilt,
His heart's eye could clearly see;

An egg upon his saddle set,
Jostled in the fury chase,
Stolen from it's mother's clutch,
Heaven help this fool a knight,
Lest he lose this deadly race;

The trees began to bend and weave,
A deathly grasping dance,
And then the flames came hurtling by,
He'd barely stood a chance.