skirts rustle across the floor
whispers of movement
and conversation, the conversations!
voices fill the room to the rafters
brimming with that peculiar sound
(and the occasional snubbed toe)
while in the background,
unnoticed save as the source of everything
fists raised for the next passage
black and brown in synchronized movement
the body drones, chucks falling in heartbeats
but the mechanics do not worry him
while his background hums in boredom
he is thinking about the prince in common time
stately marching fanfare
with a tinge of melancholy
so vivid in his eyes
the picture so vivid as if he was marching in that very room
destined to marry the girl
arranged by his well meaning parents
pretty enough but...
that other girl catches his eye
his heartbeat
his passion
how does he choose?
here come the boom chuck chucks
that elusive three four
cueing waltzes with each and both
whirling around the floor
a reflection of reality…
but this is their reality
how, can he choose?
but in the end, it’s his duty that calls him
his duty calls
in this big bright burning yellow room
no happily ever after for this fairytale prince