"Goodnight, my Prince" my Princess says
And turns from me to climb the stairs
To our bedchamber; the candle's glow
Casts golden light upon her hair
As it did so many years ago
When first I saw her, dreaming there,
Lips parted for a kiss. Her breath so slow
One might mistake her sleep for death.

"Is that you, my Prince?" my princess sighs
As she sighed then, yet now it chills my soul.
Beside her in our bed I watch her dreaming eyes
dart back and forth beneath closed lids.
Each night it is the same.
"Is that you, my Prince?" she murmurs
softly in her sleep, and sighs and moans.
What I would give to hear her moan my name
while she sleeps - while something in me dies.

Curse that fairy! For all her clever fairy schemes
and all her magic fairy arts
have come to naught -
For what do fairies know of human hearts?
A kindness turned into a curse;
A maiden's hope twisted to a youth's despair;
Each night my princess leaves me here
and searches - still - for what I cannot give.
Would she had died -  that I would not have to live
with knowing mortal flesh cannot compare
to a hundred years of dreams.

Goodnight, My Prince
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