You might find them in the woods, if you can get past
the nymphs (who are on their side). They only want the
kiss of breeze, the romance of trees, the squeeeee of mud
-lucious squish between unadorned toes. They’re done
with spells and slippers and steps. They’ve stolen steeds
and turned them back to wild. They’ve abandoned lace
and silk and satin and corset squeeze for the dance
of wind across skin, and quaint cotton trousers that allow
them to climb. They’ve got forts and swords and all devil
-ish sorts of dragons, trained not to fight, but fly. They
only sing when they want to, and bow to the moon. They’ve
learned to speak sparrow, read bark, spark sunlight into
quiet fire. They’re unshaven, uncraven, and gravely serious
about getting the giggles each day around three. You see,
they’re betrothed only to friendship and laughter and
spending their ever afters in unfettered glee.
::
Oh, YES!
Sent from my iPhone
>
Heehee. Thanks. I am growing quite attached to these wayward princesses. 😉
About time!!!!
Right?! They’ve finally all gone rogue…and I am having the BEST time with them. 😉
Well, you went rogue so long ago that you’ll be a good role model for them.
I love your rogue princesses, and it’s now sparking off thoughts in my head for my next poem. Have you come across the Pocket Princesses comics?
Never heard of them! Will have to hunt them down! Thank you! 🙂
PS: Loved your piece. Thank you!
However, I will say I was most definitely influenced by The Paper Bag Princess. 😉
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