June 28, 2017

With Diamond Dress, By Michael Delaney



He tells me nightly
as he brushes the golden locks
that keep me
here, we're
gazing at my
likeness

Why do I feel
like the pale reflection?

Blue eyes
stare back at me
my mother’s, he says
his little princess
is growing up, it’s not fair
being the fairest.

Running
a hand
through silver hair, he
compliments
my blood red lips
I bite my tongue

Focus on the frame
as his hands trace mine
a familiar line
only wants my happiness
where’s my happy ever after?

I’ll do anything
he says, with diamond dress
waiting in the wings
should I fly into his arms
just name it
even Rumpelstiltskin’s name is
not too much to ask

“Bring Mother back,” I tell him.


Michael is a short story writer and occasional poet, with a passion for fairy tales, folklore and mythology.  His work is featured on the website Mythraeum, and his Native American fairy tales were finalists in Crown in a Box's short story contest, "Redefine a Princess." 

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