The Prince stared at the broken hill:
the bitter glass, the sharp-toothed drake;
the abyss of fire, lava spill
the devil he had yet to wake -
The tallest mountain, coldest moors,
The noble but exhausting cause,
The princess and the dragon both,
He weighed his options through the smoke.
Then took his horse, his sword, his pride,
And turned his back on all the sides,
Rode home without a crowd or cheers -
The wisest King for many years.
JE LEEST
The Fairytale Wakes
PoëzieOnce upon a time is now. A poetry collection celebrating and subverting fairytales.
