What do I say to my Prince of today that a thousand poets haven’t said over a thousand years?
Which words string together my surprise at finding you right on the lily pad, where all the other frogs had sat?
How could I be sure that this time the kiss would turn you into the Prince and not frog’s legs for dinner?
While I pace on the streams edge, you wait patiently, watching, wondering what would be of this. I, watch you from afar, waiting for a hop or a jump.
When I can stand it no longer, I whisper across the water, “If I kiss you, will you be my Prince?” You jump up enthusiastically pick me up, swing me around. Your joy plain for all to see.
Here next to you on the lily pad, I feel secure, protected in your big, bulging arms. While the wind blows the water wild, we stand together, bending like willows next to the stream.
When the cold-water rushes against our legs I see you glance across the pad. “I’ve got your back, feel safe.” you say. I am speechless. I am warm.
When we sleep, I feel your arms around me; your body warm against mine. You breathe the fresh scent of my hair, “For memories sake.” you say, drinking me in. You murmur in your sleep, “I love you.” I am possessed.
Our fairy tale ends with promises to keep. Together a covenant we seek of fidelity, love and devotion. I wished for you and here you are.
Circa 1998-1999, for my Darling Don
