I was rosy-cheeked, with sparkling eyes
when I was eight years old.
I danced, feeling the swirl
of imaginary gowns around my ankles.
I almost thought I saw you then,
until adult voices called out
to tell me about chores left undone.
There was still gold in my hair at sixteen.
But I swayed to different songs,
of moonlight promises that I knew
would evaporate faster than dew.
Did believing in you make me more gullible
to frivolous songs sung by unskilled bards?
I don’t know.
I know that I tried not to believe,
as sixteen faded into the distance,
as gold turned the color of the dishwater
I had my hands in every day.
Disappointment makes an excellent whetstone
for a tongue that wants to hide a tender heart,
still moved by tales of legendary bandits
and still intrigued by a magician’s words.
Then you arrived,
to fan the cinder of my belief,
when the bags under my eyes
were more noticeable than my lashes.
How could I not scream at you,
for all those times I needed wonder,
looked for it, and all I found
was the sound of my own sobbing?
Am I to start believing again
when the world has almost finished its job
of convincing me that faith is pointless,
and magic isn’t real?
since the world has done an incomplete job,
I will try to trust in what my eyes and heart see,
and start dancing again.
Still from the movie The Last Unicorn
Song Choice: I'm Not That Girl by Idina Menzel
This poem was inspired by a prompt (I came up with!) over at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads: Sidekicks in the Spotlight. I based it on a character from the cult classic, The Last Unicorn.