NPWM Twenty-One: Snow White

She smelled of sweet grass and meadows,
Her words carried through the wind in countless bellows.
Her hair a crisp black,
Her skin a pale white.
She talks with me, and all other creatures,
She knows many people who act as her teachers.
Small little men like to sing their tunes,
But the hum turns somber on this afternoon.
A reflection is cast on our sleeping maiden,
She’s more pale now, maybe laid in heaven.
A warrior comes to wake her,
He hums no tune, but he brings with him warmth like that of fur.
He lay a fair kiss upon the fair maiden,
Who upon waking, had shimmering eyes of sunlight;
And all the colorful songs were brought back to life.


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