Oh, Let Down Your Hair Just Once, My Love

Prose Poetry

Photo by Andrey Zvyagintsev on Unsplash

You are not the princess locked up in the tower whose spire pierces the blue sky above.

No, you are the tower that I must scale — if you’ll let me, if you’ll even give me the time of day.

I have watched you for so many suns and moons that I grow dizzy at the thought of actually knowing you. Will you charm me? Or will I be disarmed by your prickly personality?

I can count the number of times I’ve seen you look to the stars and sigh, as if the very nature of the world disappoints you.

Can I be a world to you? A world to traverse and explore at will?

Or will I just be another wall to you, a boundary you must avoid to find another way out of your personal maze?

You keep everyone out, as simple as if you are just blinking or staring, but I wonder: will that always be enough for you to be on your own?

I’ve watched love stories drown before they have a chance to prosper.

I won’t say we could be a love story — but I almost wish I could call you “my love” in the way of centuries-past romantics.

We could be a storybook ending with epilogues filled to the brim with adventures.