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Rumplestiltskin
May 24, 2012
You gave me fair warning:
Three guesses ‘til he’s mine,
All the while my heart was warming;
He’s much too steep a fine.
I won’t give him up
But try as I might
I have won the hunt
But I’m losing the fight.
I’m sick of this riddle,
Of trying each way,
Of being a fiddle,
Just something to play.
I knew your name once,
And have spoken it twice.
You must think me a dunce,
Or some sort of lice.
Nevertheless
I’ll say it again.
(I did my very best,
But for naught against men)
I’ll speak quickly and quietly
Before the time flies,
Though never so silently,
I name you: Lies.
© Jessica P., Bethel Park, PA
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