the riddle of the princess gleams
above the scope of peasant dreams
and cutting to the quick of the
diamond runes
their dawns come all too soon
and then, the executions,
death blows, briers.
where is the fairy tale that says:
life is a riddle till you're dead
and golden gleam and glisten too
the unshed tears of the slumbrous.
it's the music of restraint we hear
in every syllable that clear
that haloes all the words of long ago.
brief was their snow.
briefer still the hallowed roses
sheared by the trending
clip clop of the horses of their doom;
and is this my room?
cried the homesick child,
Aurora...
wakening too soon
mary angela douglas 7 october 2014
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