Of Polymorph
A single brush, a passing glance,
An empty meeting forged by Chance.
In the emptiness, a spark,
A call to understand, a hark.
The man who passed, a little off,
You start to stare, then mask a cough.
More and more of him you see,
More and more your mind's set free.
His feet, padding on the ground,
Hunter's step, leaves no sound.
Leather cloak, more like skin,
Hard, coiled muscles hide within.
Flesh, two tones too red,
Pointed ears upon the head.
Breathes cold mist breath, the only one,
While others sweat in noonday sun.
You follow, down a dead end street,
There, your bloody fate you meet.
The dragon grins, changes to man,
"Why do they chase what they don't understand?"
No hybrid now, to lure away,
A true form man to walk the day.
"Rest as this, perhaps they'll show."
He ponders why they need to know
     
Thanks to Rune for this contribution!
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