(For Cynthia Ann Dougherty) <br /> <br />Towing your tattered doll, <br />you would fetch your storybook <br />and scale my knees to hear <br />how Sleeping Beauty woke. <br />My voice, to match a tale, <br />grated a giant's roar <br />or whispered of lamp or bean <br />against your ash-blonde hair. <br /> <br />You clapped each tidy ending, <br />after fidgeting through the plot: <br />your smile—at rescue, prince, <br />embrace—bloomed at the thought. <br />In that time of once upon, <br />legend let fall the truth <br />that a princess is her feeling: <br />kind words keep a lovely mouth. <br /> <br />I celebrate that now <br />in your own story's flush, <br />toss rice at your ivory gown <br />and raise a father's wish. <br />Ever-afters recede in mist, <br />but for the princess shining here <br />my cheer is plain and easy: <br />may your storybook endure. <br /> <br /> <br />[Pub. in Caduceus, Yale U. Press,2013]<br /><br />William F Dougherty<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/epithalamium-14/
