call me dishrag.
some years ago, never mind how long precisely,
I was no scouring brush, I had my own lustre
now I'm a tarnished candelabra
it must disturb you, this reverse cinderella -
bride princess in crinoline becomes blue frog
your once snow white who was fresh as full cream
now keeping company with Frumpy, Dumpy and Grunge
but this scullery maid can still clean up nice
(and often by the stroke of midnight)
and the fairy dust has not worn off:
I am mother of Adorable, wife of Can Be Charming
daughter to a Dear - the wide eyed fawn
lock-jointed in the Medusa stare of highbeams
(quit it Bambi, this ain't no Yellow Brick Road)
wandering under the briar bushes
as the enchanted forest awaits protective legislation
biding my time in the tallest tower
as I comb out the frizz from my rope of opportunity;
so look kindly on your cinder sweeper
who still fits into that fragile slipper
now that I'm wound on the spindle of your finger
I count on you to break my lethargic stupor
we'll get out of the woods together
inshaAllah
because you once called me fairy
because that's a chapter we both remember
let's try to keep the ending, however unoriginal -
needing no spell, but prudence and prayer:
sending for regular service and maintenance
our happily, lest it detach from ever after.