Another Meditation On Cinderella's Dress Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

the froth of her dress was like a small sea
or something branched as flowers can be
in the spring or starlight caught in a looking

glass. oh how can you ask me
who only stood at the door and gaped
and counted for riff raff in the end.

green I would say if you asked me at ten
but then again maybe turquoise laced with
galaxies but in the afternoon

she stood in her bare toes dressed like a rose
in rose, I know, being her fellow servant
and her friend

such beauty will not grace again
a thousand, thousand balls
not even by royal invitation.

insipid nations crowd the board
and swear off fairy tales.
proud of their ragged boats

washed stem to stern in ordinary time
and have not learned to measure music measureless.
beauty must be cherished said the ghost

or it will dim is all old poets say, or said
and nearly wept at this
and so did I in the world of the dead

waking too late in the day.

mary angela douglas 8 july 2015