I’m still scrambling ‘neath our dragons,
Trudging o’er their hot-mouth-mess.
Who, spearless and weak, were we?
To think past possible:
That fantastically improbable kiss?
I longly pine for our innocence;
I regret our hesitance
Into the abyss.
Myopically, we risked so-infinitely-less
Than we then imagined.