in
                                            shaded
                                                     copse & bluebell          
                                                 bower, hot scents of        
                                        wild garlic give way to a
                                             mist of forget me nots. Let      
                                              those sweet fragrances mix,      
                                       as cooled air glistens on soft
                                       green; Breathe deep, the
                                               earth, as it's wiped           
                                                        ­        from your                           
                                      twisting
                                                    back        ­            
                              &
                              you  
                                                  beg                        
                           your 
                                                          ­    ghosts                                    
                           for release
                          "Do you feel it?"
                       ~where the bud grows free*~

                                                                ­            "... Come,                     
                                                              ­                 catch her."                     

                                                Rising;        ­       
                                                         anew                                      
                          fr­om glowing
                     ashes.                
               
                 Buffeted;          
               by the hollow
                   of her              
                             shoulders.             
              
                                     Swirling;                  
                              amidst sweet
                           handfuls,
                          gently
                               blown,   
                                from the   
                       cherries  
                    pinkest    
              boughs.
                                         ­         
                                    Wings spread;                  
        
                                   "Do you see them?"        

                     Flying
                            again...

                                           Off          
                                                  g­rid         
                                                    ­         without       
                                                                ­    a course.      
                                                   ­              
                                                            Wild  
                                                          sparks­, 
                                                              ­follow her tail    
                                       across an  
                                                  ever brigh­tening          
                           sky.            

                    Let                     
her fire
     burn              
your eyes.
          
                             Watch,                     
                               ­                                          
                          as her tears    
                                                 heal your                        
                                    pain.               
             
                                                    Reach out,              
                          
                                                  &                    
                                                                ­          touch                                    
                                    ­                        each                
                                                               silver lining  
                                              as
                                                                ­   she                   
                                          ­                    takes             
                                                         ­       You                      
                                                       dancing            
                                              freely              
                   on a
                                   breeze...             
        
                                   Floating                   
                                deliciously,          ­        
                     with                      
                   nimble                   
        fae;            
       
Spun,
                   in the              
                   wisps of          
               tiptoeing
                  spiders.
                                     ­
                              Dizzy 
                           ­             together    
                                 (now)
                                             with the sound
                                               of their sweet        
                                                   ­  laughter.                         
              
               ­         ~Open~

                      in
                                       ­       a sky of                       
                                                  blossom &                          
                                                                ­       sparks.                                                
                                     
                                        ~At One~               
                      
                                as       ­     
                                               All                            
                             ­         around,                  
                          she hears, quite         
                          ... unmistakeably ...          
                                                                          ~for the sake of mischief~                                                       ­ 
                                         whispered softly, with                     
                               ­              each bluster.                           
                             ­         
                                                          ­ *"Do you hear it too?"                                  

We  
speak
in flowers,
     heady blooms    
     and English    
Tea rose
     buds**.
     ~ *Taking    
                 scents    
                         to nose,    
                                             & to a                      
                                         ­       hearts'                      
                                                             ­ blank                                      
                    ­   book

papered white,
there is one wall in
  his room of spines for
 a  muse. His beautiful
   abstraction ~ carved
  &   polished    ~
       hung as his     
hourglass;
Inverting
light & time
with a resonance  
of understanding as
beads of fiction fall*


    *Colouring other walls vibrant          
                           these spines shine      
                                   with jewels        
                             imbibing     
                           his souls'             
         faceted    
         light              
with       
            hope                  

        *      *   free    *         *            
                 her        *        *         
*          

. even' .
closer    let me
   feel you,      whole,
  as      our darkness
brims full     again
with pearlised
. light .
         

Angel torches
filter sunlight 
across a vast   
horizon
         of sea foam                    
   petticoats.
Where                         
 topaz  touches         
                    glittering                  
              cyan         
                             &                    
                             spirals                 
                            downwards             
                          through the              
             deepest dark      
                  blues - no body            
             can exist within            
      jewelled sapidity.    

Toes                                    
         curl over                         a grassy ledge
above a raging sea            Whispers
on the wind say nothing to
save descents to me

Curtains up
NOW OWN
~IT~

AS IF
  you're the King
   of the whole
    **** stage  

when

you're
really
  just another
player

acting out
for those
cheap seats
you survey

Where else
****
HERE

would
THEY
get to see
such a
[defamation]
-free play?"

(laughing)

"Best you
throw some sweets.

*Indulge them

...I'd say!
...I'd say!"


The Evil Queen 
smirks
&
a knife glints in her hand

Is
she
creeping
up

Behind You?
(or... does she need a real man?)


Ahhhh!!

    you see...

she's
exhausted
A-LADD-IN
& she knows
where to find you..

(evil laughter)

Ohhhh!

It's
just as well
you're in costume
...now  remember
your lines

"Don't props (& illusions) make a jolly good night!"

and baby, *WOW!

you look
Oh! Soooo cute
in those tights!

                                  *and with a sweep of the stage, the smirking Queen exits >               right

This stage
is all yours now

So Buttons...    take a bow
(us Brits love an underdog in a fight)

... Make your bow deep
~with a flourish of resplendence~
that captures their hearts

try more than That wiggle
-and a lot more-
than one dance!

                       To do it well...                                                          ­              
get a catchphrase

(which we'll ALL lurvey darlink from the start)

Believe me,
is good

Always
is
    another...

try
the one
    you've used in  
   rehearsals with the
  Stepsisters
- all dragged up-
looking
L
   O      
       V      U
          E            G
               L       L      
                                                 Y              (like their mother)

                                                      
 ­                                   cough                       ­ 
                        
                                **** it..
                               Everyone chokes
                               on the dry ice that swirls!

                     The audience ponders....

WHO's the boys ?

THAT's... a... girl ?!  

 
                            &
                      in
                 the
               low
             glow   
            they'll see      
    Cinders singing
of loves' sweet melody,
  those s l o w shoe shuffles    
        softly sliding across their        
                                             t
                                                   r
                                 ­                        a
                                                               ­ p
                                                              ­                             door hearts  
Laughing & crying along through
each emotion of the tattered  
sweet princess, who     
         simply hasn't had        
                     a Prince in her...                
    winks
                           sights             
                                  (YET!)  
       
then
  Act II ends
with

a Flash!
&
a Bang!

 
They all lived  
ever after...
      
Cinders' happy?

*THE END

You*
stand       there
- naked          & exhausted -
 a silhouette at   twilight;     Bowing to
the     end    of seasons     as a final gold tear
spins...    down   into shadows that lengthen, on this
  brighter day. . .       I will remember,        creaks out  
       from   an open spread of  arms in     a vast greying sky;      
Heard, by listening ears,    which embrace each darkness.
     Every  barest  recollection  -of ever changing filigree        
   falling silently to loom,           (hungry worms    
              feast far below)       where once               
           warmth    shimmered       
         in gentle breezes-      
             Alive forever          
                                               within*  *the                                             
    sleep of our trees.