The prince leans to the girl in scarlet heels,
Her green eyes slant, hair flaring in a fan
Of silver as the rondo slows; now reels
Begin on tilted violins to span
The whole revolving tall glass palace hall
Where guests slide gliding into light like wine;
Rose candles flicker on the lilac wall
Reflecting in a million flagons’ shine,
And glided couples all in whirling trance
Follow holiday revel begun long since,
Until near twelve the strange girl all at once
Guilt-stricken halts, pales, clings to the prince
As amid the hectic music and cocktail talk
She hears the caustic ticking of the clock
Filed under: poetry | Tagged: cinderella, cocktail talk, girl in scarlet heels, guilt, poetry, sylvia plath, ticking clock
hmph, fairy tales…
hey, some people are happy in them
i like fiction…
Real life hurts too much
fiction is good…the action blood stained sort.
Hostile anime zee?
i said anime! not hentai *blush*
there is magic in fiction – perhaps a reflection of who we really are, since we are taught what others want us to be, before we get a chance to explore the possibilities.
thanks for sharing, i look forward to reading all of your posts.
david in maine