She is coming, too soon, too abrupt.
Her apparition is an anticipated surprise.
I bow before her, I lean on her,
And I tell her a fairy tale.
That's the end of our fairy tale.
Fairy tale that's devoid of all its vital innocence.
We are becoming aware.
We stop moving, in awe of the fairy tale.
She knows.
Though her knowledge is not my wisdom.
Her riddles defeat me.
And she knows.
We are drifting apart and the fairy tale,
Repeats itself all over again,
Perhaps it's time for me,
To outgrow fairy tales.
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