Rusty Dragon and a Bike of Silver Green

Rusty Dragon hates to fly,
She’s no head for scary heights!
“The sky,” she thinks, “is for the birds,
Belly-copters, planes, and kites.”
The high-winds sting her dragon eyes!
Oh, how her poor wings ache!
Last summer she tried to somersault!
But crash-splashed in a lake!

How Rusty Dragon, longs to travel,
By bright-bike of silver-green!
She dreams of zipping down the prom,
Breeze-tickling scales clean!
Beneath midnight stars, peddling hard,
Guzzling fish and golden chips.
Then spreading wings, to catch the winds,
Sailing home with salty lips.

“One day”, she says, gaze far away,
Burrowed under cuddling autumn trees.
“No more flights, just my bike,
“And giggling with glee!”
It’s nearly morning, now she’s yawning!
“All this dreaming! Oh it tires!”
She curls her tail, snug around her scales,
And’s soon snoring tiny sparks of fire.