She sleeps with her head pressed against the pillow,

Her eyes fluttering closed to the night,

Outside, rain falls in small but thundering droplets;

I see her lips curl up in a frown, hands clenched tight to the thin sheets,

I wonder what kind of dreams, what kind of nightmares, dance beneath her eyelids -

If I could, I would erase every single one,

Except the ones that make her smile, and laugh.

Have you ever heard of the lark that sings deep into the center of the world,

Lighting up the places where people have died, where people have bled and suffered?

If, for one moment, I could have been her lark,

Then maybe - just maybe - she would have come to love me.

But instead, the walls of the tower hold me back,

At a distance where rain drenches me in its filmy sheet,

And even the sky wants to mourn with me

As she sleeps, and sleeps

And waits, and waits -

No one comes.

"He would have to be elegant," she'd said.

"With his locks of golden blond hair, crystal-violet eyes,

He would have to know how to sweep me off my feet,

Make me feel safe in his embrace,

And love me, love me."

I touch my own hair, the color of sun-dust orange,

Peer into the window's reflection at my honey yellow eyes,

And whisper in the night,

"I love you."

But, she would never know.

It wasn't enough to love her, if I couldn't help her,

There was nothing in my blood

That could help her.

He comes on a dark and stormy night,

His white horse prancing underneath the crying sky,

The stars lighting up each step he takes towards the stone tower;

I feel my heart sink as lightning streaks across a window,

Filling up his profile,

Golden-blond hair, eyes the color of amethyst gems -

Her prince.

He kisses her on a dreary April night.

She wakes up on a dreary April night.

For the first time in seventeen years, I'm able to see her eyes,

Deep brown orbs alight with warmth,

With happiness,

With love,

As she leaps from the bed and embraces him.

He catches her in his strong arms, smooths back her hair, and whispers soft words in her ear;

She cries tears of joy, clinging to his chest and sobbing as though

The world didn't exist anymore.

I smile sadly,

Maybe the world, and me, were nothing to her now,

Maybe the lark will stay in the center of the world,

Music unheard, unsung, to his loved one,

Maybe this night will last forever,

And I can imagine those brown eyes smiling at me

Instead of him.

Sleeping beauty had found her prince.