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The ancient mist crept in slowly that night, reminding her of the friendship of razors,

tucked in, under pillows while she slept. As she waited yet another night

for her prince to arrive, she prayed quietly that he would be alive,

that he would call to her, and set her free from too much

attention from the drunkard chosen one.

She would only give herself – to the one whom she loved,

the waiting was the hardest part, while footsteps

stepped closer to her locked door,

she slowly reached under

 her pillow.


 ~Poetry by Nico at Ancient Skies

Sharing this Beautiful verse by Nico while I am Quiet.  Open Blog Weekend at BnV running through Monday. More info here