The princess is sitting at her magic mirror
And talking to guests that will never arrive;
She wishes the people she sees in the glass
Were part of the world where she’s forced to survive.
For warm hearts are waiting for her in the glass,
While out in the warm world are hearts that are cold,
And she longs for the day when her two worlds are one,
But that part of her story is yet to be told.
Paul Haynie
7/18/2003
This was also written for Monica, and even more than “Dancer”, seems appropriate to the majority of the women I meet on the web to some extent. It is interesting in that it is pretty much the only poem I have ever written in triambs rather and iambs, and I have no idea why; it just happened that way.