We’ve heard of butterflies and zebras.
But some things never get old.
We’ve all heard of fairy tales,
because timeless stories always told.
We’ve all heard many, many words.
But they’re still being bought and sold.
We’ve all wished for a happy life,
like a fairytale that we mold.
We all love the butterfly’s beauty,
and zebras for being bold.
And we all love to be loved.
That’s why some things are forever gold.
In search of a fairy tale one slipped my gaze,
tis the tale of ordinary days.
There still be pirates that roam the seas.
Kings and queens still do what they please.
Animals speak and ease our fear,
wheels launch and cycles steer.
In the sky on wings we glide.
In castles fortified we seek and hide.
Space is felt between the lines.
Time’s lost when the cover confines.
Peace is eluded when parts anoint.
Love’s drawn to illustrate our point.
There’s joy to read in a child’s eyes.
To overlook the smile dies.
Stories told, life’s to chart,
character’s cast from the start.
Moonlit melodies of tales great;
a princess awaits a frog of fate.
Magic kissed an imagined pair mate.
But to croak to soon is to be too late.
I don’t want to wrestle dragons,
or any other mythical beast.
I don’t want to ride into battle,
slaying hearts for a nightly feast.
I don’t need to be a hero,
with a castle duly moated.
I don’t need to be in history books,
but nice to be someday noted.
Century’s lost beneath a frigid sea.
A mystery shrouded from you and me.
One hundred years till the darkest of night.
A body shall be risen once gone from sight.
Subjects none, she’s a queen alone.
An island rests till her desire’s grown.
She’ll rise from the mist in fur, feather and scale.
Cloaked of face, she’s lovely beyond the pale.
Her quest is simple; to attain her reflection,
caught from a soul’s image of loves perfection.
Her call is silent, her essence shines through.
Once chosen, there’s none you can do.
Her attraction’s permanent, like flies on sweets.
And entice she does with her anticipated treats.
From a dream plucked, it’s her prey of late.
In a line they’ll stand with surety of fate.
Then only she will choose.
Who’ll be the winner this time to lose.
The others left bereft of heart.
Free for now to long another start.
The queen now quenched returns to her bed.
Her emptiness filled, rube’s again shed.
And the rest of us wonder of the tales that be.
Or am I to flounder in a flash of the sea?
*In Brigadoon all roads lead to the future.*