A time ago and far away

There was a distant land

Where a king and queen ruled

With a gracious and steady hand.

 

The sick were healed, the poor were fed

It seemed as though most things were right

And when the royals’ daughter was finally born

The celebrations lasted through the night.

 

Few sunsets passed before she came

That old woman of mystery and power

No one could have suspected that which lay

In her baby gift of the fairest golden flower.

 

The king inhaled their scent, and his wife too

The flowers they placed near their daughter’s bed

 

Then, in the night, things changed

And only one was truly aware.

She slipped into the castle undetected

As guards, jaded by peace, gave no care.

 

She crept past the staff and past the chambers

Coming to the nursery fine

She sighed and gazed upon the girl;

“Save us all, the child is nearly divine.

 

“When the time is right and all is said,

I will bring her back to the cradle in which she belongs.

Yet my sister—oh, my sister’s!—dreadful ambitions

Bid me turn wrong to right and right to wrong.”

 

She bound the flower from its water and looked ‘round

Until she sighed and bent down

To hide it under the cradle

Where before it died, the beautiful thing could not be found.

 

Then she carefully scooped up the child

Cradling her head in her arms

Then dashed down and out

To the oblivion of the guards.

 

When day came the king was ill at heart

And unmistakably crabby to boot

Imagine the average father’s reaction to such a crime

As raiding his home and taking his girl as loot

 

And triple it.

“Who has taken the only joy I have?” he yelled.

“The man shall pay with his life

And know the wrath of God well!”

 

And all the kingdom searched in vain

The princess was not to be found.

And all the time the king and queen grew cold

In manner; their hearts, it seemed, were bound

 

On revenge. This change in mood

Surprised the people who loved them so.

They decided the grief of loss would soon pass

And so let the matter go.

 

As years passed, it became clear

That something was very, very wrong

The once merciful and benevolent monarchy

Now sang a new song

 

Of darkness and suspicion

And no matter who tried

The king would not listen to reason

And no one could understand why.

 

In fact, only two souls knew the reason

For such a change in power.

No one in the castle thought to suspect

The hidden gift—the golden flower.

 

For indeed it was a work of witchcraft,

The scent but a deadly trap.

The woman who gave it had been turned herself

Into a merciless witch—never to turn back.

 

The hope of the kingdom lay

In the little girl stolen from her home.

The woman who took her was wise

And raised her on her own.

 

They lived in a tower far away

Yet not so far from town

That sometimes soldiers could be heard nearby

Picking up their trail and then laying it down.

 

For better or worse the two lived in peace

Never daring to leave the tower

And once the girl was old enough she learned

Of the destructive terror of that golden flower.

 

For the stories ran wild from kingdom to kingdom

About the fair city spoiled on the sudden,

But although she was taught of the downfall of peace,

The lineage of the girl—Rapunzel—remained well hidden.

 

The only thing that gave her away was her hair

Much to her mother’s disdain

For she, too, was touched by the flower’s magic,

But in ways more physically plain.

 

For though she was born with brown locks,

Rapunzel’s hair was now a marvelous gold

Worthy of kings and nobles of fairy tales

And striking to the knights of old.

 

Yes, her hair made her one of the loveliest ladies of the land,

But it carried just one flaw:

It refused to be cut without reverting

To the brown of her birth, according to universe law.

 

Rapunzel saw no issues with this flaw

And indeed was rather fond of her brunette streak

Though she did prefer the strength of present day

Over the brown hair, so comparatively weak.

 

So her hair grew to great lengths

And indeed became quite versatile

For it was strong and flexible

 

 

The woman who raised her she knew as Mother

She loved her and was loved in turn.

They lived at peace away from all trouble

Mother would shop sometimes, and to the tower return.

 

With ruffians and thugs about, Rapunzel stayed home

For her own safety, or so her mother told.

Whatever the reason, she was always curious

To learn as much as she could was her goal.

 

She had a particular fondness for adventure books

Stories of danger and bold heroes and glory

Even as she grew she longed for excitement

And wanted to live for herself the old stories.

 

But those days never came

She lived forever in the tower

But was happy with her chameleon and her mom

And lived happily under God's power.