Those glass slippers
aren’t that comfortable,
but we still danced all night.
I knew he was the one.
So, when I heard the tinkling
of the slipper landing on the step,
He searched the land for me,
of course, but when he found me,
I was sleeping, caught
in the cobwebs of a spell.
He woke me with a kiss,
but even then,
I couldn’t say I loved him –
I had sold my voice
to buy these legs.
Another kiss, to break that binding.
Did I tell you there were bluebirds?
Fluttering round us, singing, singing,
and a deer came, and some rabbits,
and an owl brought me a cloak,
and then your daddy set me on his horse,
and we rode here, this sunset palace,
to live our happy ever after.
And that is how it was.
For NaPoWriMo. Day 17.
Our prompt for the day (optional as always) follows Gowrishankar’s suggestion that we write a poem re-telling a family anecdote that has stuck with you over time. It could be the story of the time your Uncle Louis caught a home run ball, the time your Cousin May accidentally brought home a coyote and gave it a bath, thinking it was a stray dog, or something darker (or even sillier).