S/He was too late
We can share our thoughts, a story, or a poem using the prompt in our post.
While the sleeping beauty lay prostrate,
the prince was in no hurry to be nice
He sampled every ware and nibbled
on every bite, sometimes twice.
He travelled far and wide,
drinking in all the sights
Swam in a lot of lakes,
partying through the nights.
He visited foreign lands,
holding many a fair lady’s hands.
Flirting from June to May,
whilst his waiting bride in her room lay.
Unsuspecting of his colorful love-life,
and unaware of his vagabond ways.
And then when he was spent, jaded
and content with less
When he didn’t want for more,
that’s when he wandered to her door,
boots so confident across the floor
He marched up to the attic,
entitled, and oh, so sure
He was in for a surprise,
the room was deserted,
except for that empty bed
and that message on the mirror
in bright cherry red
Goodbye you loser,
I’m done waiting for you
I’m off to make my own fate
I have far better things to do.
And as the prince staggered in disbelief
realization hit him in the face,
The princess had rescued her self
And the prince, he was too late.
By Sulekha Rawat
(My poem was edited by my lovely daughter, Shloka, a law graduate, now practicing in the Supreme Court of India. She is a prolific writer as well as a voracious reader.)
Click on the link to see the other entries for this prompt.