Sakura dreaming

A Tale of a Sleeping Prince

Once upon a midnight dreary, Sleeping Beauty was so very weary
she pondered why the Beautiful Prince could not be found,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
while she searched round and round, suddenly there came a roaring,
as if someone was gently knocking, knocking at the foyer door.
"Tis some visitor" she muttered "knocking at the foyer door;
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly she remembered, it was in the bleary May morning
and each lamp cast its dying spark wrought against whitewashed walls.
Eagerly she wished the morrow; vainly she had sought to borrow
a platinum credit card to subsist her sorrow, sorrow for the missing Sleeping Prince.
When the rare and radiant King whom the angels named Dior appeared.
Never forgotten here evermore.

And the silken silver white rustling of each 500 count dress
Thrilled her---filled her with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of her heart, she stood repeating,
"Tis my waking fantasy entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late marvel and beneficiary lawyer entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and hopefully more."

Presently her soul grew happier; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said she, "or madam, truly your fortune I implore
But the fact is, I waiting and waiting so patiently til you came knocking,
And so faintly you came knocking, knocking at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here she opened wide the door;---
Dark pink and white gowns there, and lots more.

Deep into the misty morning peering, long she stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
'Are all these mine?' But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
'Dior!', This she whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"My Dior!" Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again she heard a snoring, something louder than before,
"Surely," said she, "surely, that is next door.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore. She softly turned opened door and remarked,
"Tis the Prince snoring and nothing more."

Open here she flung the entrance door, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped the stately Dior, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute time didn't stop or stay with he;
But with mien of lord or lady, leaning against my foyer door
leaning upon my doorframe, just left of my foyer door,
leaned, and grinned and said nothing more.

Then this rich beguiling man turned her sad laments into dreaming,
By his generous and kind decorum of the countenance he wore,
"Though my heart be fluttering and pounding thou," she said, "art sure no mortal,
Elegant, blue-eyed, and a lean beauty, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on this Park Avenue house."
Quoth the man, "Dior."

Much she marvelled this older man to hear discourse so plainly,
Though his answer met with much meaning, still more relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing Dior right outside her foyer door,
Child or man upon the toned arms leaning against this chamber door,
With such name as "Dior."

But the man leaning lonely against the plastic door, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a syllable then he whispered;
Till she scarcely more than bashfully mutter "Other boyfriends have flown before;
On the morrow you will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the man said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said she, "what you utter is mere fancy and charm
Caught from some well mannered upbringing, whom well known fame
Followed fast and followed faster, and till your designs became golden myth,---
Till the vestiages of my hope that your finciancial statement will burden and bore you "Never---nevermore."

But the man was still beguiling and turned all her sad soul into smiling,
Straight he brought a diamond necklace in front of her, and a 24K bracelet and matching earrings;
Then, upon the cushion seats she sat sinking, she betook herself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this fortuitous man in New York--
What this decadent, fashion genious, delightful and apparently dumb glamourmous man of New York
Meant by saying "Nevermore."

Thus she sat engaged in debating, but no syllable expressing
To the man, whose fiery eyes now burned into my heart's core;
This and more she sat divining, with her head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp gloated o'er,
She realized that she shall never have to cook again, ah, nevermore!

Quoth the Princess: "nevermore (shall I endure this cumbersome Sleeping Prince for who needs a Prince when I have Dior?)"

posted by Sakura @ 8:22 PM