Slipping into sleep
a hundred years ago
a spindle, a spell, a castle
and an arrow and a bow.
Into that tranquil slumber
in land eternally blue
the princess upon her bed
bidding the present adieu.
One hundred years, almost eternal
magic stopped the clock
revenge, a sour spell
twisted firm the lock.
Casting the castle
in nocturnal lure
wanderlust souls treading
in places unsure.
Into worlds bathed in mystery
the frozen years
the passage nears
suspended from history.
There deep inside the woods
where melancholy grew rampant
a prince, the marksman hunter
walked through bramble once brilliant.
Cautious in approach,
skilled in use of bow
the prince determined to seek
what time had turned slow.
That he should find one so fair
upon a bed magnificent
awakened the girl with a kiss
a love forever elegant.
I guess it could be Fairytale Friday…I’ve been in charge of storytelling this week…
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Ancien Hippie 