Cinderella

Sitting by the stone cold hearth,
Beside the flickering flame,
Where dancers with feathers and funky fans,
Twirl gracefully in the ruby red fire.

The clock ticking on the mantelpiece,
The fire hissing like a slithery snake,
The wind howling like a wild, wicked wolf,
Rattling the windows loud and clear.

Gazing out of the tinted glass,
She catches a glimpse of sunset,
Where a distance away lies the horizon,
Outlined with golden thread.

A beam of light from far, far away,
Sweeps swiftly across the sky,
Leaning backwards with eyelids shut tight,
She wishes upon the shooting star.

She hears a tap, she hears a knock,
She rises up, she answers the door,
She stares, she gasps, she smiles with joy,
Slipping into the shoe.

No more tatters, no more rags,
Now adorned with diamonds and jewels,
With her prince they ride off to a castle of love,
Together forever, may they happily live.

published in youth2, 20 July 2005