Roz Kaveney (rozk) wrote,
Roz Kaveney

Another sort of fairy tale


The path was well-lit, dry. No thorns or flies
or stinging brambles that might trap her feet.
The word most often used of her was sweet.
She knew the girl who disobeys soon dies.

Orchids smelled lush and purple in the marsh.
A cool stream where green trailing willows grow.
Blue grapes beyond it, where the vines hung low.
A jesting crow whose tales witty and harsh

led her astray, and into her new life.
Children find shelter in a candy house
Ten cats are tricked and slain by one small mouse
Bluebeard is scared to death by his new wife.

The crow's her other grandmother the witch
whose tales retold will make her wise and rich.
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