Not Grimm

The rain arrives. I said it would.
We watch the water's dappled surface,
Ducks and gulls, oblivious, afloat,
And, overhead, the trees, which
Tower, shutting out the light.
We're almost in a fairy tale. A wolf
Could come, a witch, a woodsman.
We could be in peril, but the parking
Lot lies just behind, and, in it, is
Our rental coach, and, minutes off,
No creepy cottage, just a motel
Room, yet, still, this is a fairly tale.
I may not make much of a knight,
But I came on a quest for you, the
Beauty, hidden out of sight, and
Told myself I'd rescued you. In
Fact, when you appeared and took
My hand, I knew you'd rescued me,
And gave our tale its happy ending:
Swain and damsel joined, beneath
The rain, beside a lake.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 44 times
Written on 2015-03-14 at 16:04

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