The Masquerade
The Masquerade
At the masquerade
You were the prince
And I the Snow White.
When your soft hand touched my waist
My blue melancholy
Became a plume of smoke
Rising from the dance floor.
When the bell tolled at midnight
you departed with a backward glance,
Leaving me
A mask of love
On the long stairs
A red rose
Waiting to bloom
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A wonderful poem, fairy tales of life.