27 July 2012
Rapunzel sat atop her tower, Gazing, watching, by the hour. Her hair, so golden, finely spun, And eyes so clear: a prize to be won.
She'd been waiting, years on end, With naught but a garden she could tend. And so Rapunzel stamped her foot, Decided she didn't make the cut.
She sheared her hair to shoulder-length, And started training to up her strength. Her muscles taut, a deadly grace, A liveliness about her face.
She made a case of armour, bright, And practised with it and all her might. Her sword rang true and finely honed, With lithe movements she knew she owned.
Rapunzel was a deadly force, Filled with life and little remorse. She escaped her tower on a dragon's back, And searched for someone to attack.
She came upon a war, just East, And her sword began its deadly feast. And at the end, her helmet down, The winning army offered a crown.
Her visor lifted, the army gasped, Rapunzel balked: it wouldn't last. But with a shout she took the prize, And with her dragon: became...
Queen of The Skies.
Rapunzel: Queen Of The Skies. • Opuss № I