After All Those Evers

 

..

She sleeps

,
and her spun-gold
tresses spindle
down
these cobbled castle walls.
The feeling of gossamer
against her skin, and
a gentle mourning for
fragile footwear. A half
-bitten apple. A fading rose.
A watchtower, the call
of dragons. The sound of
hooves, a forest whisper.
The crown she’d gladly
trade for freedom. A
sword.

Too many stones.

 

..
Prompted by Miz Q. Come play!

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7 Responses to After All Those Evers

  1. ihatepoetry says:

    Loved these details and how they add up to misery. Great.

  2. erbiage says:

    Ah unspun flaxen gold! Fine the way you fold old tales retold.

    Oh and gossamer was the name of the orange monster in certain bugs bunny shorts. Not what I’d want to feel against my skin! (sorry for the tangent). 🙂

  3. A mixed up fairy tale world. You describe it beautifully and fearfully

  4. Misky says:

    It’s like reading stepping stones. An escape, perhaps.

  5. Iris says:

    Love the hidden title: “all those severs.”

    Love these:
    “her spun-gold
    tresses spindle
    down”
    “The feeling of gossamer”

  6. julespaige says:

    Yes and triple yes…to all the ‘Grimm’ references.
    Ah, the sword…our pens…what swift marks that slasheth realities…

    Getting lost in mazes is another dream-scape I can do without!

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