Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member

Promises it has kept

In fine latticed silver chain
Cascading, tiny silver bells

The paisley leaf hook, embellished with
pearls and semi precious stones
Antique and pure, the melody
The charm and chimes of the bells
Sparkling silver anklets
Held memories of occasions prime

Bespoke vintage jewellery

From silversmiths of old repute and times
Generations of happiness
Strengthening bonds
I dreamed of going to a ball once, all in red and gold--like Settareh from the old tales.

Only, I had no pari to help me.

My veil was secondhand, my gown plain, and my anklets of paste and plating instead of diamonds and gold.

But there was this boy, you see.

Not a prince, not the captain of a ship or a faerie lord, not a warrior, a healer or a mage...just a boy.

And I had the barest will-o’-the-wisp’s hope that he would dance with me.
I wanted to go to the Browncoat Ball this year...

— The End —