She sits by the window, head in hand,Lost in her mystic Wonderland.
Where fairies fly free, across the sky
And a beanstalk stretches, a million feet high.
In a world where true love is a wish away, she'll laugh and tease and play all day...now hoping, now dreaming, now smiling and scheming...then sing and dance as if time were all hers and here to stay.
Midnight hour creeps upon her, anxiety sweating down her neck.
Her courage strangulated; creeper-like grip of fear choking her breath.
Joys she'd known, dull and seem to fade away.
She must now forget these, conceal her smiles, consume her pain.
With stairs winding, the day long gone, darkness is blinding, she carries on...one glass slipper fallen, the other worn tight, the only way ahead is the one in sight.
Pained at the thought, no angst she will show. This is no fairytale, she knows...the curse of her choice, deal with it, she must, blow by blow.
But when the lights are cool and dim,
And the sky is fringed with a starry trim
She sits by the window, head in hand
Lost again in her mystic Wonderland.
(Pic: Don Bell Artist Studio)
