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When the tail of the dragon has turned,
and has come to lie on her head,
and she knows of the throbbing, and pulsing
of the life that she once might have led;
when at once in astounding array,
all her empires to her sad dismay
have all withered and blown,
and lain open her tomb,
and her life is all wasted away;
when in the sadness of dismal retreat,
her eyes against her eyes meet—
when finally won, what then has she done
but give her life up in defeat?
Of victory sure, but no one kept score.
The winner, you see, was dead.
So caught in your dream that you can't get even?
Find yourself someone to love.
It rhymes with glove and it's red!
Copyright © 2009 by Karl W. Swartz. All rights reserved.