Sleeping Bounty

Sleeping Bounty

What a sweet coma

was gifted to me -

where dreams as vast and various

as the patterns

that wind and twist

in the fabric draped

around my bridal bed -

the night you visited.

Dreams of love

in battles where I am the victor.

My spoils are shreds

gathered and woven

into a boundless landscape

as vibrant as the stained glass colours

in the palace windows

and changeable as the air.

The roses are blood red

in my garden

like the painted blooms

the queen once demanded.

Perhaps their ancient scent finds

my un-princed tower as I sleep

as a sword rusts

among the thorns.

Once I could only see

as far as the mapped horizon

of my father's kingdom.

Here there is no ending.

The sky today

is as blue as a crayon

the sun as bright as a chandelier.

Tomorrow is tomorrow.