Before the Final Rose Petal Falls


She is truly a creature

Of rich, comely beauty.

A lithe, slender form

Not quite petite

And not quite statuesque.

Skin the color of fresh peaches

Kissed with a light blush

Large, round eyes

Emerald jewels

Fiery courage and defiance

Dancing within.

Her lips a soft, plush red

Much like the rose her father

Attempted to steal.

Indeed, she is a creature of

Rich comely beauty.

Yet it was her hands

That were the most

Attractive feature to him.

Slim fingers borne from small palms.

Skin soft and smooth

Tender caresses from those hands

Were a far greater treasure

Than any jewel or fine cloth

Found in the storerooms of his castle.

Her hands were easily dwarfed by his.

Fingertips barely reaching half of his palm.

Oh how he loathed his hands.

Large, thick fingers

Not blanketed by skin,

But by dark, coarse fur.

Sharp curves of ivory

Adorning the tips.

Hands that could easily

Allow scarlet ink to spill forth from her.

The hands of a Beast.

A nightly hymn

Enchanting and utterly devastating

Hisses mockingly into his ear

Who could ever love a Beast?

Yet those wonderful hands

Of the Beauty before him

Would clasp his paws

Fingers tightly trapping

His palms to hers.

She saw his hands

As those of someone

With great strength

And not just on a physical level,

But strength of heart.

To her, he was not

A Beast, but a man

Like the prince he once was.

And with a sensual,

Yet terrifying gentleness,

She wipes away his metaphoric tears.


They were such funny things

Shaped like almonds

Narrow, round

Small and Large.

Housing orbs

Of various colors

Blue, green, brown and black

Exotic ones like gold,

Violet and silver.

Conveying thousands of emotions

Some fleeting

Others long lasting

Watching, always watching

Constantly following every move.

From birth, hers would shimmer

With an age old wisdom

A spark of adventure

Sometimes coming out to play.

In her books

They would flash with rage

Gleam with seductive conspiracy

Or glow with compassion.

Upon meeting him for the first time,

All she could witness was anger,

An unspoken command to be respected

And obeyed.

Like the swirling winds

Of the North and South

Like thunder and lightning,

Her independent spirit

And his hardened demeanor would clash.

Neither soul relenting.

Over time the threads of a bond

Were forged.

Delicate like cobweb

Growing stronger as days passed.

Slowly the fog of anger

Lifted from his eyes

And she could see fear and pain

These were the eyes of someone

Who walked while wounded

His heart bleeding,

An explanation for his fire.

Gently, carefully she began

To heal his wounds

Truly seeing the human within

New emotions enter his eyes Love?

Whispers cling to

The evening breezes

Floating around her.

Who could ever love a beast?

She could.