Dear Rapunzel

It seems ages since we met over your long, golden hair an hour glass on the table keeping the meter. It seems like too many dress up doll days when we played take me to the river but don’t get our feet wet. It seems we lost our inner selves painting our faces painting our nails, singing karaoke at the bars. Oh, to regain those lost years of our youth, unwrinkled skin turn back all the pages, like winding gold on a spindle. Instead we have just leaves, grieves, and grandchildren with their laser guns, plastic skin and smug attitudes. They never challenged gamey little midgets with foul intent they had us to pad them safely with money, love and scent. Dear Rapunzel, do please let your hair down one more time and play climb out of the cellar and up the apple tree with me. Signed Your Dearest Play Mate.