Once upon a time,     
Many years ago,
Their stories began,
And we watched them grow.

Waiting, so restless,
In shadows below
The hovering page,
Pacing to and fro.

Our cold, angry hearts
Froze over with fury,
As theirs became warm,
And our prospects dreary.

They blossomed, they did,
Became delightful.
We shriveled, cracked,
Grew oh-so-spiteful.

The time it had come
For hardship to sting,
To fork their straight path,
And leave them suff’ring.

Thrown from the tower,
By mocking sorc’ress,
The prince fell, blinded,
Into thorns tort’rous.

A house made of bread,
beckoned them inside,
Fattened by a witch,
Deliciously pied.

Jealous of beauty,
A plot soon devised,
An apple poisoned
With sleepy surprise.

But alas, we fell,
A wound in our side.
They came out on top,
Our loss in their stride.

Like spring blooms they rose
Up, up from the page,
Free from black and white,
The paper-bound cage.

Held back by harsh words,
We retreat in shame.
Wands, spells, tucked away,
For now-- it’s the game.

So back to our wait,
For stories they repeat.
Only this telling
Ends with their defeat.