There was once an old wyrm who felt it his duty to conform to the ways of his ancestors old and hoard a great sum of gold, much to the humour of a young drake believed the tradition was fake. “Why do you labour to make that heap of trash?” he asked the wyrm, who glared in annoyance at the drake and stated, “this was the norm, for all true dragons valued gold before the dwarven wars did unfold. “This was a tale often told, which you should know, and not mistake.” With a glance at the piled gold, the youngster shook his head at the wyrm, “I care not to be a bookworm, for it seems boring,” declared the drake. His elder stared long at the arrogant drake for his statement so careless and bold. “So, when the winds rise into a storm, do you not wisdom and knowledge take to stay aflight from us old learned wyrms?” he asked, casually rearranging his gold. “Those lessons are practical, unlike your gold,” frowned the increasingly exasperated drake, but that did not phase the laughing wyrm who replied, “you only know this current world with merely hunting for mutton and steak, before human society waned and deformed. “We together had an economic platform based on the transferal of gold, and a rich dragon could partake in many fine pleasures. Oh, young drake, the wonderous treasures that we bought and sold…” and into memory trailed off the old wyrm. In the break from story form the youngster left the wyrm and his gold, and the drake pondered the weird world of old.
This poetic form is a sestina, and I allowed myself the slight modification where instead of using six repeating words, I used three repeating words and words that rhymed with them.