Peasant Phoenix©1999 by Genea Parker
As she stares at the gilded invitation she holds.
His legendary carriage evaporates,
Held not by the muddy lane
Nor by the fog that pervades the hamlet.
A crazy thought gives her a moment
Of sudden pleasure.
“They will never agree to take me,
But maybe I will leave
My copper kettle
And wall of brooms
And become more than their slave for one night.”
Smiles to herself,
Walks back inside.
Is it such a foolish notion?”
Thanks for taking the time to read. Comments welcome! :-)