The fairy tales
Where the hero
Bypasses
The thorny wall
Of roses
To reach the princess
Are all wrong
Or
Maybe
Just incomplete
And I can’t help
But wonder
What would greet
Them
If they paused their
Conquest
Long enough
To rest
And commune
With this
First offering
From the one
Inside
They so yearn
To meet
It is true
That the eyes
In their greed
Take in
The bud
The thorns
The castle beyond
In one
Grand
Sweep
But this
Requires
The slow
Deliberate
Vulnerability
Of touch
So attuned
That the
Sharp
Tip
Of the thorn
Becomes
The luscious
Crest
Of a wave
Pointing the way
To another
And another
Soft petals
Forgotten
In the undulation
Of this sea
Yet
Still arrive
With thick scent
Of ecstasy
And now
Here
Is the time
To pause
Breathe in
Wait
Patiently
Finger tips
Hold
Steady
Now
This is the realm
Of fields
And closeness
Now
Tongue suck
As slight
Hairs
Rise
To the brush
To the blush
Of soft
And pink
And shimmer
And sweet
Thorns scratch
Flower latch
Name forgotten
Borders
Soften
Nothing matters
But this
And this
And this
And in
This place
The vines
Fade away
And we find
The other way
That in loving
The bramble and vine
Our hero does not
Uncover a princess
Desperate in her need
But is enveloped
In the embrace
Of a
Glorious
Generous
Intoxicating
Queen