The Awakening

No-one could wake her,

though everyone tried.

The waking world

had lost its fascination,

and the dreams seduced her

till we could not bring her back.

We, too, grew weary,

the pain of our loss

too great to bear with open eyes.

We wanted to be with her

wherever she was

and, tired at last

of weeping, fell into sleep.

Who was it woke us?

Who first brought the news

of our girl restored to us?

Not the girl we knew,

but one now fully aware.

Was it one more of her fantasies,

the pretty young man and his kiss?

Such a smile she sports

came, surely, from more than this?

First published in The Black Rose

 

 

 

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