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she had picked up her elegance from the chrysanthemum among the thistles.

you could see that from her reflection on the shining blade of her sword which hung like a tapestry on her wall.

~ no knight was going to come to her rescue ~

on the throne of black locks on her head, she placed the delicate crown which glinted in hues of the setting sun.

she ran a finger through one of the curled strands of hair that curtained her face, as she stood before the embellished mirror.

~ no mirror was bold enough to declare her the fairest of all ~

she moved with the poise and panache of a primrose dancing around fire.

she glided down, draping the stairs behind her with her flowing elite ball gown that laced around her body.

~ she would not be losing a glass slipper tonight ~

her graceful footsteps rung through the glowing hall, quiet in a late afternoon fiesta.

she stood wondering beside the haunted pianoforte which would play royally when the throng arrived.

~ there would be many prince charmings, but none who could charm her ~

she would waltz across the dance foyer with the malignancy of a swan.

she would dine with the noble men knowing exactly where the poison lies.

~ it's hard to tell whether it was her beauty or her poison which killed the king ~

the thoughts now played in her mind, as did a smile on her lips --- her guests would soon arrive.

with a laugh, she went back upstairs for one last time, to lock her secrets away.

~ as everyone would bow to her, she would ride on horseback, her chin elated with the momentarily happy forever she curated. ~

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