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Click hereIn early sun, the thorns shone black with rain.
His horse recoiled, as if a giant snake
Lay there, dozing lazily past dawn,
Its red eyes slits, so as to ascertain
For threat or food the serpent should awake.
The Prince dismounted and, with his sword drawn,
Hacked through the briar to the citadel.
The thousand sleeping bodies would not wake,
Not evenShe when kissed. He, with a yawn,
Lay wíth her. Áll stíll underneath the spell
Sleep on.
Survivor Poetry Contest
Trigger 42, Form C (Curtal Sonnet)
This poem was mentioned in today's new poem review. Thanks for the read!