Springtime, and love found new in two so young. A lifetime open, adventure calling with appealing eyes of fire. Such danger, but to dance within the flames, to truly live at risk of death. No fear have they of such an end, such dire fates, for it is silly fantasy, never reality.
These dreams, these fairytales they spin, while leaping from the greatest rock and soaring through the grassy fields atop the hill. They laugh and dream and twirl about, hand in hand, singing songs of dragons slain, mountains conquered, villains overtaken, all at their mighty hands.
Her smile outlasting his, he falls into surrounding darkness. Chills sweep through their fantasia, shivers so hostile she barely endures. But he is weak, huddling between the great rock's bottom and grassless ground. Bitter winds wrap 'round its victim. She fights for him. He surrenders his sword.
The death, the darkness encases her. Without him, she will perish. The Knight, her friend, her warrior. Her love, her hero, and now no more.
An unseen hand extends to her, gripping her shoulder. Raising her head, she sees the Prince. And she herself a Princess, suited for nobility, arranges courtly obsequies for the one she loves. Ladies arrayed in dismal black, swirling down the crimson carpets, past mourners, to Knight, to his place of rest upon the pedestal at height of kings. Sprinkling abroad black rose pedals, fine flowers sacrificed for him.
With roses so fair, she adorns him. Then kneels beside her warrior, who risked his life for triumph. His end, too soon, and she too young to widow now.
The Prince is standing by her side again, striving to comfort. She, past consolation, past sanity and fear, reaches back, taking Prince's hand in hers. Her right, the while, is seeking out his dagger. Dagger's deed done, with a final squeeze of her hand as her last words.
The act committed is seen as death by Prince's hand. The dagger, once his safety, now brings him danger. And execution falls upon the comforter. Truly mortal tragedy, the weak, the troubled, the guiltless, all put to sleep at last.
By Kellyanne Lynch
5/1/97, (rev. 9/99)
