Tower Window
The Prince was a stuffed-olive of a man
Beautifully proper and horribly dull
Little did she know that damn glass slipper
Would be her undoing
Marrying a fantasy, a childish thumb-sucking waste
Of wishful thinking
O that wicked godmother
To fill her head full of lies!
Sure, she had the palace, the servants
The golden carriage and a
Poodle named “Poof”
But that “Happily Ever After” line was just
A ruse, a convenient cover
For all the despair, a brave smile
To hide a secret longing for something real
Something tangible, to hold in her arms
Forever
To feel the Earth, solid beneath her feet
On hands and knees scrubbing, bleeding
Rags to work new miracles
A wild, impetuous roll in the cinders
With a brash, uncultured stable boy
Who takes her face between his laboring hands
And kisses her, gently
With a promise that can’t be broken.