Glass Slipper in Moonshine
Midnight came and went as perilous as a wolf howling at the moon.
—by poet
Tease of time, palpitating pearls,
she’s flirting with the bluest eyes,
framed in heaven’s clouds. Girlish curls
capture a sigh and peer clockwise.
With princess charm, she winked, half-turned
to run, ascend the starry night.
One glass slipper in moonshine; spurned
like a pauper in class-ignite.
Will the foolish prince sip from the glass?
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