Deprive me not, my charming prince
from dancing with the count.
I can’t remain a trophy toy of yours
in this ballroom crowd.
Deprive me not a moment’s glance
at him whose heart adores me —
the glass shoe that was returned to me
wounded my feet as I pranced.
So I must choose the count at once
and settle the matter in my head,
and give my heart an upper hand,
like destiny, fate and circumstance.
April 5, 2010
Of course the question that popped into my mind was…is the count just security? and so one yields to the power of logic rather than a course of love? Ah…just a random series of questions.
… or perhaps, is the count the
reality and the prince,
the dream?
Thanks for bringing in a new
dimension to the poem
by asking a question
of relevance.
Poetry begins in delight and
ends in wisdom.
– Robert Frost