I Wish I Had Feathers…


Floats a Swan

I attend the grandest parties –
Splendid affairs vibrant with colors.
The walls drip with silks of all shades
Swooping to kiss marbled floors.
Shadows caste from myriad melting candles
Dance like faeries along the walls.
The foods- a spectacle –
Overflowing with towering sweets and bubbling delicacies.
Wine is unending.
Sparkling punch spurts from ice fountains
Collected in cups of all shapes and sizes.
I gaze – mesmerized
From my perch on the sidelines
In awe of the creatures I see swirling
And twirling to the tinkling of music.
They are birds
Demonstrating their feathers made of silk and chiffon.
Hair is an art form:
Buildings of curls and pearls and little stuffed creatures.
It is magic –
A wondrous thing to behold.
They eat and they chatter and they dance the whole night
Never growing tired
Never distracted from fantasy
A hush stills the room, and I am most puzzled.
I scan left; I scan right
Till at the edge of the room, I do see
You –
A Queen; her majesty; a spectral phantom.
You are adorned in cascading white.
Your hair has been powdered and dusted; seems frail
And amidst these pompous peacocks and ruffled buffoons
Floats a Swan.
The silks of your dress flow like a river of a stars
Parting the dizzying sea of melted rainbow.
The pearls on your neck clink with movement and you transform
A beautiful Ice Princess who has frozen my heart.
“I love you.”
I whisper
And somehow you hear.
Grace me with a look; with a smile; an invitation to dance.
It’s unspoken but I swear this to you
My ethereal Priestess
You will wear white once again
And twirl in my arms amongst a sea of colors.
My bride
My vision
On the notes of a viola, I will carry you to the stars
And we will dance on the Milky Way,
Preserve your beauty in a constellation,
Spur envy in Aphrodite’s heart.

About The Girl Who...

...wore blue shoes. Poet, painter, blogger, daughter of the King: I express myself through art in literature and acrylic and clacking of keyboard keys because I have been given a passion for each like a knawing in my breast. I contemplate the world and everything therein through a lense of Christian theistic philosophy and wish to share with you the resulting musings which I mutter to myself.

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