Miles and miles, twists and turns

Mazes forever, bridges burned.

Intense heat, ashes and dust,

Forever moving, gold’s lust.

A quest foretold, many tried,

None had conquered, many died.

Keeper of the flame, guarded well,

Fiery eyes send you to hell.

Teeth razor sharp, ripping shreds,

Home he is with the living dead.

Skulls of thousands, walls they line,

Snakes encircle as if poison vines.

And still another soul left behind,

The gold awaits another time.

Who so ever be really brave?

Can you take it or meet your grave?

©Cynthia Clark