The Prince (and the Princess)

When he got to the castle … he told them he had a bride, who was now in the village, and they should drive there in the carriage to get her. So they hitched up the carriage, and lots of servants climbed up behind. Just as the prince was getting in, his mother gave him a kiss, and he forgot everything that had happened and everything he had meant to do.
"The Prince and the Princess'
The thing is,
you get so very tired:
the impossible tasks
the gut-twisting tension
and there's always three of everything —
you can never rest.
It's the women who have the magic.
First, my beloved
who tied a knot in her handkerchief,
struck the earth three times,
said, "Earwigs, come!'
and the forest was chopped
the great pond emptied
the castle built —
all in a matter of hours
by an army of elves.
(I managed to have a nap.)
Next, her mother
who could not abide me
and called on supernatural aid
to block our escape,
then my own mother
who caused me to forget my beloved
(analyse it how you will)
as soon as she kissed me:
the whole slate wiped clean.
This was, of course, terrible
yet a welcome respite
in that at last I got some sleep.
At the crucial moment,
I made up for my lapse by
waking up and waking up and waking up —
oh yes, it never ends…
And even now, though I'm content —
delivered forever from
the amnesia of unhappiness —
I still need a wealth of sleep.
In the evenings, my queen is
a poem by candelight — but,
when she ends her enchanted stories with:
So they divided the Apple of Life
and ate it together,
and lived in undisturbed happiness
to a great age…
I'm always well away.
The servants have to carry me up.
There is so much to recover from.
The happy ending allows you to rest.