The Unfinished


This hill is mine
They refer to me as the fairytale  
Is that a crime?
I remain unfinished  beautiful
My father’s people did not allow  
to finish what he started
My father was a good man
Even though you
declared him mad
Not mad
He knew what he was doing
a collector
of castles and crowns
But you took him away
The dead of night
murdered my father
I look down at the lake
and over at
My brother the yellow castle
And know
this is how
I will remain

Unfinished but beautiful

Published in Imaginary Gardens Spring 2013

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