Wilted Rose
Born with blood royal
And blessed with fairy wishes,
A young girl was to grow into a lovely woman
But was tainted with one’s cursed kisses.
No matter the spoils or words of roses
A sadness was set within,
And once she came to the ripened age
It was time for the torment to begin.
Through shine there was rain with clouds so heavy
And though she kept a smile,
Her despair inside grew so great
It was almost impossible to stifle.
So, on one fateful night when the moon was peaked
Out of the palace she ran and left,
To the evil witch’s dwelling she finally reached
With pouring sweat and all happiness bereft.
“Please rid me of this depression and pain!”
She pleaded at the witch’s feet,
And though usually the witch would turn all away
The girl’s earnest tears had her defeat.
At the crack of dawn a plan was devised
Then the girl had set for home,
And as she walked back on the path
She felt a happiness she had never known.
That day she laughed with joy and glee
And gave kisses and grins here and there,
Until nightfall greeted her with the rise of the moon
Where she glided up the tower’s stairs.
There housed a room so quaint and small
And decorated with silks and satin,
Her hands brushed the single red rose by the bed
Then to the bed sheet that she carefully flattened.
Laying down with her hair going every which way
She awaited in the moonlight still,
The witch soon arrived garbed in black and grim,
Ready do one act of goodwill.
She pricked the girl’s finger with a needle laced
And shed a tear after her duty,
For in front of her lay the wilted rose,
A forever sleeping beauty.