At a quarter-century-old
She still believes in magic.
Standing at the edge
Of the forest, she pauses.
Afraid of what she might find
But could never possibly exist.
Ignoring the real danger, she persists
In believing the fairy tale dangers:
Witches brewing in modest hovels
And trolls, goblins, and gremlins--
Snatching souls and hatching schemes.
Yet this is reality, not her wild dreams.

So she must be her own hero.
Both a princess and a paladin--
Fairest in the land simultaneously
A bad-ass clad in armor and finesse.
Graceful in the dark and the light.
So mount up your highness,
And move with conviction.