Asleep for 100 years

My grandfather once told me I was unlikely to see as much change in my lifetime as he had in his - flight, cars, radio and so on. And yet I could now offer many examples - TV, home phones. colour TV, mobiles, computers, the Internet, and much more. But how much have we actually achieved?

In the latest of my flirtations with the world of fairy stories, Sleeping Beauty wakes around now. An interesting prism to see the world through, and one I’m looking forward to reading at an open mic event before too long.

A 1920s Sleeping Beauty 


A rare time for a girl from a certain class
Not so good for a working lass
not for her the short skirts 
beads and helmet hair
not for her the Charleston

so if it sounds like a fairy story 
to hear her snatched to opulence 
that’s because it is
a romance, an obsession of a rich young man
used to getting his own way

a man who knew just what he wanted 
and what he wanted was our Sally May
so he whisked her off her feet
flowers and compliments, a campaign of charm
Henley and Ascot, Aintree too 

always with her new beau on her arm
At first she couldn’t believe her luck
an escape from poverty, toil, and muck
all handed on a plate 
the cost she realised all too late

and misery has many guises 
one of which she now discovered 
though really it should have been no surprise 
that this young man would be 
…her lover

the engagement she insisted on
meant a do, a party, a Ball
with invitations for the event
highly prized by one and all

enter the wicked fairy
resplendent in shimmering style
spitting with rage at not being invited
sending Sally to sleep for a while

a hundred years? She thought she’d cope 
by then her fiancé would have given up hope
strikes and hardship would be things of the past
and folk would have built a peace to last

a smile on her face, she sank into slumber
ready to wake up refreshed and rested
unaware that her life in this future
would see her resilience sorely tested

a hundred years passed, from sleep she stirred
woken by something she’d felt, or heard
a young man was near, slightly abashed
‘I’m sorry’ he said ‘I should have asked

but you were asleep and wouldn’t wake
I coughed and spoke to no avail
so I thought a kiss might do the trick
or was that just some old wives’ tale?

no, it seemed that only a kiss would serve
so I leant over gently ,holding my nerve
and kissed you, softly, no more than a peck
on your cheek, not your lips, not your neck

it’s in the old story, 
I’m not really to blame’
‘What year is it?’ she asked
ignoring his shame

she gasped at the answer
a hundred years on
where had all those decades gone?
And now she had more questions

Has poverty ended?
Are there no more strikes?
Has the killing stopped?
Is there no more war?

Disappointed by the answers
she got back into bed
‘Wake me in a century’s time.
Things might be better then’ she said