Victim of the Rose
I came upon a man of sorts—
Or one I suppose,
With a kind and sweet gesture,
He offered me a rose.
In my shyness, I did not oblige,
For his hat covered his eyes.
And then I realized the work it took to create such a bloom.
So in my guilt, to spare him the gloom, I said:
“Sir—why do you offer me this rose?”
He kneeled before me, from his great height
And even trying with all my might,
His charm still flattered all throughout the night.
This man, who was he?
Who whispered seductively…softly…
His thumb daintily traced my knuckles,
And soon came his lips that caressed my fingers.
The distraught voice echoed within my mind,
And his bind—whatever it may be—pulled at my heart strings.
His shoulders shook and then he let out a heartfelt cry.
He let go of my hand and then stood shakily, with one hand on the wall.
His back turned to me, he continued to sob.
I was also ready to let my tears fall,
But I endured
Der Ritter: A SonnetIt was there in that wood,
I should have never gone.
But believe me if I could,
I would not listen to his song.
The trees had me in their tender embrace,
And even though--so frightened--I stayed.
He revealed himself with such grace,
That in my horror, I was utterly dismayed.
His spidery fingers caressed my jaw,
And I entranced, was able to cease my fear.
Even though he had no maw,
Whispered so only I could hear:
It is strange that you do not flee, in the presence of a creature like me.
UnafraidMy grandmother was German. When I was a kid and would come over for the weekends, she would always share these fascinating stories that I would listen to with wide eyes and a curious mind. We went through the usual stories that kids know—Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, and Rapunzel.
When we'd exhausted almost every tale that the Grimm Brothers wrote, I'd grown up a little. I was now in my early teens, and still spent time with her. Handing me a plateful of freshly-baked cookies and a large glass of milk, she would always smile and chuckle at my innocence.
I looked at the portrait of her and my grandfather for the fifth time on the refrigerator. It was black and white, suggesting that it was taken long before my time, but it was still good quality. My grandmother looked beautiful in her wedding dress, and my grandfather radiant in his suit.
Both of them were turned towards each other, a big smile on both of their faces. The scenery behind them was equally breathtaking—a backdro
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