In her endless sleep, a princess dreamed of a farmer. His voice was like frozen honey, rugged and smooth all at once. He whispered only the kindest of words, the softest of comforts. His calloused hand cupped her cheek and led her to a small cabin that smelled of cedar and smoke. The two sipped warm lavender tea and watched sparrows wing and dive between branches.
She awoke to a brush upon her lips and a face unfamiliar. A prince of sorts, come to break the spell.
“Time to go home, Darling.” He said in a voice that grated her ears.
Corey Laisure 