Running towards her pumpkin <br />At the stroke of midnight <br />Her lost slipper upon the stair <br />In the silver majestic moonlight <br />The fairytale turns to dust <br />As the witching hour begins <br />Down in the forgotten cellar <br />Her sorrow and pain she sings <br />So not to loose her memories of this night’s enchantment <br />She tearfully produces ink of thoughts onto peasant parchment <br />Recumbent but weary on her bed of mice invested hay <br />Crying her self to sleep still and alone Cinderella lay <br />The next morning prince charming comes round <br />With the clear glass slipper he had found <br />A gentleman he lowers down on one knee, while Cinderella sits <br />Drawing eloquent smiles as the slipper perfectly fits<br /><br />nicola burkett<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/32-cinderella/
