Some Random Hero

When she was born

her parents both rejoiced

and sent the invitations

winging out to all but one,

and then they waited,

breathless, for her

tale to start.

She was a child then,

too young to care about

the crystal slippers,

or the potions that

they smeared into her

golden hair to make it

grow to tower length.

But some years later,

when she caught

her mother slipping peas

beneath her satin sheets,

and found her father

thrusting glowing blades

into a granite slab,

she swapped her fine

embroidered clothing

for the tatters of

a downstairs maid,

begged a tired nag from

a too-trusting stable hand

and slipped away.

Her life too short to waste

on other people's fantasies,

she went to find her own,

instead of waiting for

some random hero to

come riding through a

strictly scripted fairy tale.