Cinderella

He saw her at the ball.

She with her lilac gown

and her silver fan.

Intricate lace of golden thread

Wroughting lines of decor

On her skirt and her face.

A veil with a glassy appearance.

Crystalline slippers anew.

She smiled.

A beautiful rendition of a

memory long-lost.

Her countenance like a painting

of victory and joy.

He noticed the way the blush faded,

after the smile.

The way the eyebrows contracted.

The way the cheeks grew pale.

And he realized,

she was a cloud with a

silver lining.

Dark within, but with

flashes of light. 

He wondered what she hid.

What tremendous pains or

fantasies

That never came true. 

What sleepless nights,

what troubled thoughts that

hid beneath those brown tresses.

She smiled way too much

for a damsel in distress.

For a tragic princess.

Yet, it was evident

the traces of agony on her

flushed face

as she danced the waltz. 

He saw her at the ball.

She with her lilac gown

and her silver fan.

And he never forgot that meeting.