No slippers left behind, glass pathway to captivity, this time
Queen Ella, once called Cinders, will not risk again
King's men, travelling, weary, to every cottage they can find
until they catch her, dressed in comfortable rags.
Babe at her own breast, wetnurse forgotten
Their duty fits it to her feet to recognize.
Her king, bored with his no longer docile wife,cannot spare the time
to seek her otherwise, hunting secret faces and soft words
Even when younger, eyesight sharp, he could not see without the shoe.
And so, slipping through shadows, she leaves it all behind
the soft, sinking bed. Sickly sweet serenades,
the gown, covered with jewels, she could not lift alone.