she closes her eyes...
imagining...

a battle hardened body
scarred with
the markings
of past skirmishes fought
and won,

the worn hilt of her sword
a testimony
to her mastery...

oh, the body-felt yearning...
to live in a time
when she could have
travelled a countryside,
carrying her sword,
and slain a dragon or two...
with an easy knowledge
of enemies
that could be vanquished
for the good of all...

it would be easier
(she thinks)

than the life
she creates here,
in this seemingly mundane world,
where the dragons,
though invisible,
are no less real...

where the scars
she carries
to mark her battles
score only
her heart
and weigh
on her soul....

and where
her lined face
is the only testimony
of her resilience,
and strength...