Hello, my Rapunzel.
My Princess in the highest tower.
So high are you that the pinnacle of your home pierced the skies. So tall it tickled the moon. So alone. So alone.
Why do you stay? Why do you stay?
For so long have you kept to yourself, barring the door with locks and logs as thick and strong as the door itself; all the whiles prancing and dancing to the music to keep you company. Smiling alone. Laughing alone.
Why do you hold? Why do you hold?
What is the point of staying in a little locked room so far up the highest tower? What is the point of all those TVs and stereos and internet? Life is more than pixels and electrics.
Here I am, standing outside your window every night. Sitting. Waiting. So far below. So far below.
I can’t see you unless you’re there at the window. And I dare not call out to you, even if I am not a mute.
So I waited. And waited.
And there you are, peering and peeping through the open window. Waving at me. Singing to me. Have I done something, other than admiring your grace and majesty, that I deserve even a hint of your smile?
And you would send out paper doves with internet pictures of fantastic and magical places. Places you’ve never been to. Places you want to go to. O what wonders you made me saw. O what beauty.
My lovely Rapunzel.
Like a lone Edelweiss, buried deep under the Alpen snow. Writhing. Surviving. Expecting.
Reach out to me, lone Edelweiss, and I will reach out to you.
Let me be your Spring.
My dear Rapunzel.
Maybe someday you will be brave enough. Maybe someday you will grow your hair long enough, that you can tie its end to the foot of the bed and inch your way down to me. Through the window. Through the window.
Then I can take your hand and ride away with you to all those fantastic places. And all those magical ones.
Let me be your compass.
Hello, my Rapunzel. My brave princess.
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