Sunday, 10 February 2013


Its a bright dawn
I am a small child
Crawling on my knees,
My form too weak to support my frame

Now am six
Curious about everything
I still believe am the princess
And my father a king
And my humble home a majestic palace

I turn twelve years old
Am on the verge of puberty
A little unsure about this and that
Ever since I learned the truth
That princesses only exist in Britain

The sun is overhead and I am 18
Torn between adolescence and maturity
Shyness gives way to quite grace
A little love here and there
A broken heart every once in a while

Yestarday I turned 24
I realised that fairy tales are just stories
That we have to right our own
And decide how they end

Next I will be thirty
Maybe I will be a mother or a wife
Or maybe I will still be here
waiting to write yet another chapter

Then it will be dusk
When I can write no more
I would leave this task to someone
Hopefully a son or a daughter
Maybe it would a spouse
I hope its not a friend
That would mean I went wrong somewhere

So for now my hands hover
On a page fresh and blank
Waiting for words to come
Before dusk is here

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