THE GIRL IN A TATTERED GOWN

Long ago, in a land lost and forgotten,
Stood a lofty tower of ice,
Shrouded from the sight of the poor and rich,
Shielded from the keen eyes of the noble and mild,
And at the top of this spiry tower;
Dwells a girl in a tattered gown,
Trapped in the thrall of an unending slumber,
Alone and unseen, without her golden crown,
That wards off webs of the evil curse;
Until one day, after a thousand years has passed,
When the sun change its immortal course,
And the ribbon of light that had died,
Flicker and shiver back into existence,
And the warmth that was denied the girl,
For a thousand years now seek her spirit,
From where it lay trapped in her cold body,
And suddenly, the tendrils of subtle magic,
That has immersed her in an unending dream,
Now tuck its spindly tail between its nimble legs,
And bid an hasty flight with the windy tempest,
That came to pay homage to the immortal queen.
The girl in a tattered gown opened her eyes wide,
And stretched her body, stretched like a tall tree,
And laughed to the heavens with her bright smile.
So, she sang an ancient song and time did slow;
She gestured with her bony fingers and the ice did melt;
She motioned with her hands and the wind did blow;
So, she made a carpet out of the wind's pelt,
That she may ride to a distant land,
Where her fame has waned as time ages,
And the people has forgotten about their queen,
Who once ruled with a kind heart and a strong hand.
She crouch upon the carpet, firm and light,
And bade the lofty tower goodbye,
Which did crack and fall upon its foundation,
That it may no more serve as a prison.

©Okunola Peace.