The witch has met her doom,
And he walks into the room.
He looks around,
And finds her lying down.
Upon a bed of silk,
Face white as milk.
He walks over to the bed,
Feet feel as lead.
He fears the princess’ doom,
As he walks to her bed.
He leans down to caress her soft lips.
The spell is broken with a kiss,
Now they are free to do as they wish.
© Copyright 2016 Iris Silverson. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Fantasy
Short Story / Literary Fiction
Poem / Poetry
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