You are telling stories
again
while I am back
among the ashes
and cinders.
Here you are
giving me sweetness
like Cinderella’s prince.
trying
to fit that tight
glass slipper on me
one more time.
I think
we must be
careful
not to break it
for I have
already
lost one.
You are still
telling tales
even as you lift
my chin
with steady fingers
catching my tears
in the chalice
of your hands.
I want to believe,
I used to believe
In magic
pumpkins
that change to carriages
elegant coachmen
who were
once mice.
Dear, Prince
your eyes
so blue
I think
I am flying
with little bluebirds
over yesterday.
Maybe this time
the clock
won’t strike
midnight
so we can live
between the
“Once upon”
and the “ever after”
for at least
awhile.
