Poor little child! A magical maiden?
A lonely waif. Lost her mother,
adrift from her father, unloved by
stepmom and sisters.
Poor little child! What can she do?
Sweep, clean, mend, cook, launder, sew
until fingers raw, body exhausted,
and poor head aches.
Evil sisters to a ball, leaving Cinderella
behind, poor thing. Handsome prince
back in town, looking for love
meant to last.
Cinderella sings to birds, lovely friends,
who sew a dress with finest thread
and call godmother to work her magical,
Dressed so fine in carriage rich
off she goes, to meet the prince
at festival dear. Dancing arm in arm
they fall in love.
Time flies by. Looks exchanged.
Love blooms to marvelous heights.
Clock strikes. Time to flee
back to her home.
Work and work for sisters mean.
All she does is cook and clean.
Another ball for ladies fine,
but she can’t go.
Poor Cinderella left at home.
Magic works and off she goes.
Sees the prince dressed so fine.
They dance and dance.
Love deepens, but time to leave.
She runs to catch her special ride.
Lost a shoe of minuscule size.
That’s just too bad.
Prince decrees all must try
special slipper on. Ladies grieve,
feet too big to squeeze inside.
It’s way too sad.
Cinderella smiles, steps up tall,
slips in tiny foot. Prince rejoices,
finds his lost lovely love.
They woo and wed.
Beauty comes when least
planned, so keep your eyes
expectantly wide open.