White Dragon

Ice cold madness swirls in the air
As the white dragon soars at the tip of the world
There is a smell of rotten anxiety in my lair
We take our turns to bring the weekly supplies,
my comrade and I.

The little ones have no choice but to stay inside
While bubbles, mazes and puzzles keep them absorbed 
Alertness, psychosis and uncertainty
maintain us preoccupied.

Today, its fist attacked a member of our turf, 
Terrified, our leader ordered us
to be in confinement for the night
We’re vulnerable against this stealth assassin.

It’s been soaring for months
Grabbing the elderly, middle-aged and youngster leaving only droplets of poisonous blood behind.

“Mommy,” I heard my boy’s trembling voice, “I’m scared, is tita safe?”
“Of course she is,” i said without thought.
Separated we are, a boundary keeps us apart. 
Only by voice and video can we interact.
Is she really ok? I can not say.
And I’m afraid that scars will not heal
In my son’s beliefs

In the meantime, the day has come down to earth,
the night has got us at bay.
Still, let’s have faith that this dragon
Appease his rage
And become dormant again.

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