To My Daughter On Her Eighteenth Birthday Poem by Caroline Lazar

Last night I dreamed a princess
pricked her finger on a spindle,
slept for a hundred years,
woke with a lover's kiss.

The princess was curious,
curious because spindles were unheard of,
unheard of because the king
destroyed each spindle except
the spindle which is fated
to prick the finger of a curious princess.

I hope I have shown you
all the spindles in the kingdom.
Hope I have.
Know I cannot.

I also hope,
when you prick your finger
and retreat from pain into sleep,
love will wake you with a kiss.