Disclaimer: Shaman King belongs to Hiroyuki Takei and Shonen Jump, not me.
The poem "Sleeping Beauty" belongs to me.
They say that Sleeping Beauty fell asleep one summer's day
She fell into unconsciousness and dreamed a century away
One hundred years she slept and dreamed and waited for her prince
Until the day he'd gallantly awake her with a kiss
She slipped into the room when only a few stars could serve as a light. Her touch was as soft and delicate as the blossom of a sakura petal. "Hi," she whispered.
He roused slightly. "You're here…?" he murmured drowsily.
She smiled, her dark eyes glowing. "Of course I am," she said, running her slim, airy fingers through his dark hair.
"Where have you been?" he whispered. He pushed himself up and cupped her pale face in his hands. "You left me here alone."
"I'm sorry," she said.
But what if there was already a man who thought he was the one?
He thought he was her own true love; he thought her heart he'd won.
But when she fell asleep that day, he still was left behind
To wait as patient as can be for the spindle to unwind.
She drew him gently into her arms. He pressed his head against her shoulder, burying his face against the soft sweet curve of her neck. "I haven't been gone for so very long."
"It's already too long," he said brokenly. "I can't live without you. I can't."
He felt whispery kisses brush against his cheeks, his lips, his forehead. "You can, and you will," she said. "You have to keep going. Every day you'll wake, and every day the pain will get a little smaller, and a little easier to bear. Live for me, dear."
Now it was his turn to draw her into an embrace. They cradled each other, the girl pouring the last strength she had into his body. He tangled his fingers in her long hair and kissed her small mouth. And then she smiled at him, one last time, and left his arms.
I think I sympathize with him, I know just how he feels
I think I know just what I'd say if I would have to deal
"My Sleeping Beauty's sleeping," he'd say, his eyes all dark and sore
"She's sleeping, only sleeping- someday she'll cross my door.
Her hair will gleam unbridled gold, her eyes will light with joy
And I know that in her heart of hearts, I'm still her only boy."
'I love you,' the girl mouthed.
"Yoh, wake up."
'I love you more,' he mouthed back.
"Yoh, please wake."
He roused fully, feeling a hand against his back. "Yoh, have you stayed with her all night?" Faust asked.
"Of course I did," Yoh said. Her small fingers were still curled around his hand in a soft, clinging grip.
"She has already passed away," the doctor said gently. "She left us, sometime this morning. Perhaps only a moment ago."
I think that's just what he would say if he really did exist
I think he'd love her though the spindle needle pricked
So as I'm standing by the altar, these words come to my head
I never really will believe you are really, truly dead
And just the same I'll wait right here, and see when you return
But for a moment I remember, and the memories all burn
Before the moment finishes, before it's all complete
I'll stand here by the altar, and in a trembling voice and weak
I'll recite to you the verses that the lonely prince did speak.
The chapel was filled with candlelight. There were white candles on the altar, the window ledges, the hands of the mourners. The casket was open, and the candles made the pale little face glow. He studied the flickers of warm gold light over her pure white dress. Illness had drawn away the blush from her fair skin, and left her thin and frail. The only color in the casket came from the roses. He'd selected the roses himself- half-blown blooms in the most ethereal pale pink God created, settled delicately on dark green, thornless stems.
He bent over her, memorizing the sweetness of her face and the calm of her expression. She was peaceful, angelic, in her deep sleep. He touched his fingers lightly against her cold smooth hair, relishing the silky feel. There was one last thing he had to do.
He had to say goodbye.
My Sleeping Beauty's sleeping, with roses in her hair
Her eyes were dark and gentle, her skin was soft and fair
Still, she's sleeping- only sleeping- and I hold the hope once more
That someday Sleeping Beauty will be standing at my door.
But I stand here at the altar, and our time comes to an end.
Goodbye, my sleeping beauty- only till you wake again.
My poems aren't always very good, but I fee like this is one my better ones. I wrote the poem first, then built the story around it.