I.
The chandeliers drip with crystal
tonight, the kingdom spins.
The ballroom a lake of glass and reflections,
Filled with perfume and possibility.
She wears a gown of wishes,
And a veil of desire, longing.
A crown, though lovely, sits heavy.
II.
First comes Sorrow,
cloaked in deep blue,
his fingers cold.
He was like dancing with a fine mist,
Wrapping round then gone.
speaks in poems and sighs.
“Stay with me,” he whispers. “I’ll understand you better than most.”
III.
Next is Riches
gold threaded through a wide smile,
he smells of coins,
conquest is his game.
He spins her fast,
so fast she forgets her own name.
“I can give you everything,” he hums. “You’ll never need again.”
IV.
Then Pride,
in a tailored suit that sounds like applause
when ruffled.
Mirrors in his eyes he says to her,
“With me…You’ll be seen. You’ll be known.”
They waltz among the envious glances and the Princess
is tempted.
But she is dizzy from the asking.
Her feet ache from the circling.
V.
Then
a quiet man,
Silent as the night,
simple coat,
scars in his palms.
Crown of vines…or even barbs?
no entourage.
“May I?”
They dance.
No promises.
No bargains.
Just the hush of a heartbeat
in time with her own.
When the music slows,
And the night comes to a close,
he does not ask for her hand.
He only thanks her for the dance.
She watches him leave the floor,
A hush over her spirit,
And she wonders
if she might choose him.
By the Brooke 