The Page of Cups is dancing in the quiet of her room;
In the darkness where she thinks no one can see;
Her skin is iridescent in the moonlit summer gloom,
And she wishes that her dance could set her free.
Her dance is full of passion, full of fire, and full of rage;
Full of hope and joy and sadness and despair
And she wonders if her story will turn to another page
Before her heart is smashed beyond repair.
She has loved her share of heroes, and of lackeys, and of fools
But she’s still to lose her heart beyond recall;
And she wishes for a partner who will understand the rules,
Both to share her strength and catch her when she falls.
The Page of Cups is dancing underneath the summer sky,
And her skin is iridescent in the light,
And I watch her from another world and wonder how and why,
And wish that I could help her in her plight.
Paul Haynie
7/1/2003
This was written for an on-line friend named Monica with whom I have since lost touch. It would seem to apply to any number of my on-line friends, though.