in pyjama hopes
waiting with bated breath
for the measured step
that will not come.
Which friend should she call this time?
These ‘listening waits ‘tear the years from her heart
and add them unceremoniously to her face
where angry crows stamp them into place.
How long has she lived
And still her Prince does not come.
A new thought jolts her upright –
is she waiting for the wrong thing?
Will Life creep by while she
listens for fairy dust?
Perhaps the sound of Freedom
is no different from her heartbeat.
Perhaps bated breath
is better spent on