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Waking Beauty

Here’s yet another you may not have read.
A tale of a princess who hasn’t yet wed.
For every time,
When a prince she does find,
She keeps him from resting his head.

Her beauty, unmatched, as all suitors could tell.
In love with her face, all the many men fell
But she woke before dawn,
With a stretch and a yawn
And made sure that they did, as well.

But after a long day spent out justice keeping
And slaying the dragons of lands broad and sweeping.
A hero needs rest.
To stay at his best
And that comes with 8 hours of sleeping.

Her insistence to wake them, her only demise,
They’d arouse just to leave her, sans even goodbyes.
They’d be groggy and sway,
As they stumbled away
Still with crust caked in their eyes.

Then along came a man unlike all of the prior,
Who vowed, through her flaw, to lay rested beside her.
But in only one day
He, too, learned the hard way
Why those there before him quickly tired.

Used to his way, as a man of such power,
He begged her to leave him for just one more hour.
“Get up,” she would say.
“It’s a beautiful day!”
Then he’d roll out of bed, dearly sour.

Up early that morn’, with his news scroll in hand
He read of the stories that graced his fair land,
Through his eyes dark with rings,
He saw such a thing,
That threw quite a wrench in his plan.

He learned of a damsel, not quite as cute,
Who was tricked by the curse of some poisonous fruit.
After only one bite
She was out like a light.
And to him, this case ever did suit.

And although our princess, he knew he would miss
The other one’s slumber, he couldn’t resist.
He packed up his stuff.
To travel the rough
For a new girl, he never could kiss.

Interesting...the "Up early that morn’, news scroll in hand" line in your poem triggered a very vivid past-life episode. I clearly remember reading the Medieval Morning Herald...Great local news, but the sports section didst sucketh mightily.  ;)

wow, very impressive, Dave.

I wish I could be creative...

Very nice poem.