A Fairy Tale Must Be Repeated At Least Once In Order To Be Comprehended

By Shelby Armor

 

My grandmother once told me

of painted skies and

a blank sheet of paper

with nothing on it but ideas for the future

 

The paper, hidden in a shed,

buried in an Arabian desert

 

held the concepts of happiness,

the concepts of joy for all

 

This paper, where it waited to be found,

spelled out a future of good fortune and happiness

 

That’s what my grandmother had said,

but I, being the curious child I was,

challenged these ideas and yearned for more,

 

I yearned for more to that story,

I yearned to understand this fairy tale,

I yearned to be older so I could see,

 

See the top shelf,

live in a world where I would tell the fairy tales.

 

It would never come, I thought to myself

“Too long” I said to my grandmother

when she asked me how school was,

and then I blinked

 

I could see the top shelf

I had children of my own to read to every night,

but my grandmother wasn’t here to see

 

when would those days come back,

the days of exploring outside

and playing pretend with my friends?

 

But they wouldn’t come back,

I had wasted my innocent days

thinking of things beyond my years,

waiting to grow up,

and doubting fairy tales

 

Editor: Makena Behnke