The Disobedient Fairytale

The leaves of the trees,

Cast their shadows

And far, far above the meadows

A cold, bloodless moon shines.

Is it here,

Under this winter sky,

In this illusion

Of a serene, peaceful night,

I will leave my life?

That I know not

But leave I must,

Like summer's last rose

Petals of deeds, good and bad,

Stuck between thorns,

The memory of a season long gone.

For the author's pen

Has no place,

For a character that doesn't do as it's told.

And doesn't keep to the words in the fold.

Such a prince

With his Crown of Thorns,

Despite the gold or wars he's won,

Will find no place in the kingdom of words

Forever frozen in a yellow, brittle page

Of the book.