Until The Kiss

Always three princes,

and he, the jolliest prince in the world,
not the handsomest, nor most valiant,
but the jolliest, and she, Sleeping Beauty.

I hadn’t the heart to awaken her,
she looked so peaceful lying there, 

After our massage, we primped - two sisters, with combs,

oils, lavender mist, standing before a mirror.
“I could have slept for a hundred years,” she'd said.

She had a knack for plunging into cold water.
We’d lunched in the enchanted forest on
a bed of pine needles, where she’d yawned
lazily, almost falling asleep once more.

She'd taken the bumpy road to love, the
sand in your eyes, Lawrence of Arabia,
bumpy road to love. But one fine day, he appeared

exactly on cue, the jolliest prince.

He hadn’t the heart to awaken her,
she looked so peaceful lying there. But then,
without further ado, he leaned over 

and kissed her lips. She smiled, stretched out her long arms
and awakened. In truth, he was jolly,

not the handsomest, nor most valiant.
And thus it was, that she awakened.