• Cinderella’s Golden Glass Slippers

    December twenty fourth,
    Thirty minutes till midnight.
    I look out at my window,
    Hoping to see just one small snowy speck.
    Nothing but dry brittle grass on the ground and silver spheres up above,
    One long sigh and it’s up to bed.

    Dreams come early to a late sleeper.
    No longer am I in a simple wooden house,
    Now the house has become a palace.
    The bare rug and dusty floor has disappeared,
    Replaced with a grand red carpet and a spotless gleaming stone floor.
    The once small and square windows now large substitute walls,
    And the familiar windy howl that once ravaged the small home,
    Has been replaced with trumpets and heralds who announce my presence.

    My threadbare nightgown gone, replaced with a fine red velvet gown.
    My simple ratty hair now gleaming with healthy curls,
    That hang down to my waist, decorated with pearls and pins.
    On feet once bare are beautiful golden glass slippers,
    That move as I do, with grace and ease I’d never before experienced.
    My once hunched over posture that betrayed my lack of self worth,
    Now is straight and proud, showing all my pricelessness.
    My voice, once shy and weak, now rings with a mixture of pride and strength,
    As I welcome all who’ve come to see me today.

    A song starts somewhere, a soft melody that sounds
    With gentle strings, strong horns, and rich percussion noise.
    As if a signal is spoken soundlessly, everyone begins to dance a skilled waltz.
    I don’t freeze as I would have, I don’t look for an escape,
    My lack of the art of dance doesn’t affect this realm of beauty and perfection.
    Instead a young man approaches me shyly, and I boldly take his hand,
    And together we take the center of the floor with skillful dance movement.
    I’m the object of attention, people stare, not with scorn, jealousy, or hatred,
    But with love, admiralty, and pride, they see me and are happy. I am happy.

    But far off I can hear a bell toll, and toll, and toll. It rings twelve times.
    Wait! Twelve? I went to bed not long before midnight,
    And surely I’ve been dancing for hours, for days.
    But no, I open my eyes with a sigh, to see my room.
    Gone is the palace, Gone is the dress, Gone is the hair,
    Gone is the people, Gone is the music, and Gone is the young man.
    It is all gone, as I’d known it would be.
    I walk downstairs with a feeling of sadness and lost.

    I see my little Christmas tree, staring at me
    With shiny ornaments and a shiny star on top.
    I see also something underneath the happy tree,
    Something that wasn’t there before.
    It isn’t wrapped, it has no bow, and no tag,
    It shouldn’t be there, it shouldn’t exist in my small world,
    But it’s there just the same, and it makes my heart jump.
    There waiting for me, is one of my beautiful golden glass slippers.
    And outside, a light winter snow is falling steadily to the ground