Claire's Dragon

When Claire was just a little tot,

when Christmas came, she was asked (a lot!)

“Now what do you wish for Santa to bring?”

Time and again, she said not a thing,

for Claire was quite shy and reluctant to speak.

But the questions continued for week upon week.

Finally, tired of the long inquisition,

she screwed up her courage,

and took a position.

She whispered to Santa in a soft, quiet voice

finally, finally, her toy of choice.

She said, “If you could, sir, a little red wagon..”

But Santa misheard, and thought she said “dragon”!

Now Claire had forever wanted a pet,

but somehow or other, had found none quite yet:

dogs were too common, gerbils too scurry-ing,

giraffes were too tall, and mice were too hurry-ing.

Fish weren’t too snuggly, and rabbits too shy,

hedgehogs were prickly, and bears? Well, oh, my!

There just didn’t seem to be anywhere

a pet who would be oh-so-perfect for Claire.

  

So, on Christmas morning, it was quite a surprise

when Claire grabbed her stocking (quite small for her size)

and found in the toe, almost too small to note,

an egg and, attached, from Santa, a quote:

“Keep this egg warm, and soon it will hatch

a pet, just for you, that will be up-to-scratch.”

Said Claire, “I think Santa must not have been listening.

A pet would be nice, but was not of my wishing.”

But like the dutiful child that she was,

she found it a pillow and blanket because

no one –says Santa—should be out in the cold;

one takes what one gets, and does what one’s told.

The egg, for a week, did nothing but sit,

and Claire, now discouraged, forgot about it.

But, one morning, she heard just the tiniest sound:

a tap, then a crack, then a crunch, and she found

a tiny red lizard: her egg, newly-hatched.

He grumbled, he wiggled, he stretched and he scratched.

Claire’s wide eyes grew wider as suddenly, he

breathed faster and faster until finally,

like a candle, he sputtered and shot forth a flame

that died quick as lightning, as fast as it came.

He looked all around him with curious stare;

the dragon was puzzled, and so, too, was Claire.

Where did it come from, this fire, this spark?

And while it was handy to have in the dark,

breathing fire and flame could bring nothing but trouble—

for Claire and her dragon, the trouble was double!

But she bundled him up and said to herself,

“He must be quite hungry. Now, what’s on the shelf?”

She found him some fruit and a cracker or four,

then some cheese, and some hot dogs—and then she got more!

This dragon was actually smaller than small,

but he ate just as if he were fifteen feet tall!

He ate and he grew, and he grew and he ate.

He grew into the yard and out through the gate,

What’s worse is that while he got bigger and bigger

his fire-breath also was growing—with vigor!

He snuffed and he snorted, but, oh! when he sneezed,

Claire ran for cover, and Mom was not pleased!

In fact, she was ready to show him the door,

but he’d burned it to cinders

when he started to snore.

 All that to one side, he’d become rather tame

and Claire had decided to give him a name.

Sparky? or Blaze? or Fireball? Red?

The names were all spinning around in her head.

She tried them all out and finally said,

“What about ‘Rufus’?”, and he turned his head.

I swear that he smiled, and looked deep in her eyes

and nodded approval, much to her surprise.

“Then, Rufus it is! And Rufus you’ll be!”

she shouted out loud, as happy as he.

Rufus now measured near 10 feet (or more)

and Claire even could ride him when she went to the store.

She clambered on up to his red wing-ed shoulder

And hung on his neck as he flew high and told her:

“Watch out when we land! It just might be rough!”

But Claire curled up tight and stayed safe enough.

He waited outside, and he carried her bag

gripped tight in his claw, and his tail even wagged!

She took him to school, and the kids were all jealous;

They took him to recess, and he toasted marshmallows

for s’mores on the schoolyard—of course he brought chocolate!

and graham crackers too, in a small dragon-pocket.

Claire loved him dearly, but, as you might surmise,

he was hard to manage in a house of this size.

So, when Christmas-time came, and Santa grew near,

Claire crept up quite close and, right in his ear,

she whispered quite sadly, “Santa, please, could you find

a nice home for Rufus? He’s friendly, he’s kind—

He’s just far too big for one child to care for..”

And Santa leapt up and said, “That’s what I’m here for!!

It seems the North Pole is so terribly cold,

that we need extra heat—or so I am told.

Instead of depending on weak North Pole sun,

we need an auxiliary furnace of one."

So Rufus flew off with the reindeer that year

to live at the North Pole, but, every year,

when Santa comes ‘round, and Christmas is nigh,

Rufus comes to see Claire, and they fly through the sky...

because they are friends, and friends always stay,

as do Rufus and Claire, to this very day.

The End.