I'm Not The Folk Tune Said The Princess

I'm not the folk tune said the princess

her head in her jeweled hands.

not even the broidered kerchief

with its thread of bluer skies than this.

I'm not the corn silk raveling

the flame petticoat cherished

by the dancer

washed out every night; the jacket

of gypsy green brocade

the flashpoint on the stage;

the open locket

flung away.

because I am not meant to be these.

but I am the mist where you think it is the sea;

the one white rose in the greenery

that doesn't blink out on the Christmas Tree

in a forest far from here.

the one at the ball with the least modern slippers,

in the tearose gown of the screened in afternoons

and spinning amethyst riddles

not to be answered; not to be sing song sung;

not to wear the hat of simple cherries

but the veil of moonrise.

the cost of moonrise.

and to prefer the abandoned hour

the mist when you think it is the sea

the sea arising when you think

it's only mist.

and this is only this and never again she said

from the tower of the last day 

mary angela douglas 6 july 2014