A Song for Sleeping Beauty

She felt the morning passing by,

Sun lifted up in midday-sky.

She heard the bluebirds start to sing,

Oh what a frail, miraculous thing!

Yet all these subtle presents missed,

For her true love she’d not yet kissed.

 

The hours passed by, days and years.

She never sees but always hears

The minutiae of life go on,

Although her sense of living gone.

She longs to stand, to run, to dance,

But sadly, she has missed her chance.

 

So there she lay, upon her bed

Reflecting on the life she’d led.

There’s not a thing she would not spare

To go outside and breathe the air,

Or stand out in the pouring rain,

Oblivious of the cold and pain.

 

She’d pay her debts, she’d beg and plead

To remind herself that she could bleed,

For having some misfortune call

Was better than no fortune at all.

And this she thought, but could not speak

As a single tear ran down her cheek.

 

She longed to fear, she longed to love,

For something to remind her of

The simple joys she used to hold,

The carelessness that shone like gold.

And all this time would not forgive

How long she’d breathed but never lived.

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