Wake Her Up!


Sleeping Beauty-Annie Peng

Wake Her Up!

Unaware, a sleeping beauty in the lush forest of her dreams;
She was having this dream repeatedly, remembering it so clearly:
The feeling of being kissed wide awake before her time,
Kissed, when there was no future for two timid lovers breaching love,
Kissed, yet knowing there was never a way, that they would play off each other,
Their names were never penciled in, not even for small cameo scenes,
until it really felt like it was too late, so why bother? Why bother?

Who votes for that dark horse of our days gone by, those memories that never ran?
Are they just randomly selected and we’re not the ones in control of them, ever again?
Why now, do we dream of a face or a love that went down the river to be forgotten?
Who cues our thoughts, our romantic desires and throws the net that they are caught in?

A subtle perfume, a stranger’s walk, a smell, or turn of phrase, might send us reeling.
It takes but a prime for a rusty memory to wash up from the depths, those old feelings,
And there is that chemistry, a phenomena so powerful, and yet so hard to explain,
that makes us pine and thirst, tempts us to song or poetry and ignites and tickles our brain.

The sleeping beauty, deep asleep in the lush forest of her singular dream….
Don’t try to touch her unless you bring a gift that stirs her and opens her eyes,
Don’t hold back that kiss, so wasted then, back before love, way back when.
You can kiss her with music you can kiss her with laughter or Art, or words that rhyme.
You can write her a play, or a classroom of romance where you can teach her the lines;
Under the sun, and under the moon, her time looms closer, as close as yesterday
Looking at this scene from above, it’s not too late at all for love….
“Wake her up! Wake her up!” I say.


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3 Responses to Wake Her Up!

  1. daleinnis says:

    Never too late for love. 🙂 Deep and evocative thoughts, yet again, and eloquently expressed.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Hoyt says:

    Your words here cut so deep Miss Karima. All those memory whiffs that never escape us. Good or bad, hurtful or grandiose they travel with us to the end. Once again I say, “How do you do it!!”

    Liked by 1 person

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