Picked from the finest bush

and blessed with a glorious fate,

passed from One to Another

only to be stowed away

in a faceless glass

in a nameless place…

Never wilting and told to await

the one who could find love

in the wretched Beast’s hate.

 

Fresh-petaled with one thorn

blooming anew each day

until his twenty-first year

the Beast barely strayed…

In the empty halls, all alone

by the window he remained

begging for another time,

another way.

For as my petals began falling

all hope had been slain.

 

On one snowy afternoon

a disturbance came about,

my Beast arose suddenly

and was never to be found.

 

My stem grew frail

and as Time withered

the doors finally opened-

‘twas a stranger, a visitor.

As the belle wandered ‘round

lovely features graced her

curiosity shone through

as she caressed my chamber

Alas with a sound from below,

away went my inquisitor.

 

Time and beauty are now expired,

truly rotten to the core,

my last petal falls

but as it wafts to the floor

I know the curse matters no longer:

my Beast will love forevermore.