A Fairy Tale

Camelot

 

A courier arrives

with a scroll

bangs on the etched

glass door

of the pink stucco cottage

on the bay.

 

Must be a message

of some importance.

 

James opens 

the door slowly.

 

“A message for M’ Lady.”

 

James accepts the scroll

and passes it on to

tiny woman standing

behind him.

 

An invitation

to a ball, she says,

How marvelous!

 

 “Who sent it?” he asks.

 

The Lewis Clan,

a gathering

to be held in Camelot,

like the days of old

when feasts and fairy tales

reigned.

 

She rewinds the scroll

slips the ribbon around it.

 

Steps around James

to meet the old man’s

gaze.

 

You’ve come from home

a great distance, 

a long journey.

 

“A matter of days,” the courier says.

 

And do you remember 

the old King John the First?

My father! 

He lived in the days

before the world crashed.

 

And you were Princess Pat

dressed in velvet and silk

with lace at the collar

and a crown of curls.

 

“The courier smiles

And who could forget 

the little princess?”

 

James scowls.

 

I could, she whispers.

 I don’t know who I am.

I forget that I was 

a princess.

 

She looks toward the bay.

I don’t know how

to get there.

 

“It’s not far.

I’ll make you a map.”

 

So many are gone.

I wouldn’t know 

 the young ones’ names.

 

“I’ll introduce you.

You will remember many

at first sight.”

 

Nothing to wear

but rags,

shorts and tee shirts.

 

She studies her reflection

in the glass door

pats her hair,

Turned gray without

 curl.

 

“Has golden highlights,”

he offers.

 

She crosses into a patch

of sunlight on the porch

step.

 

Remember the music.

the flowers, the lanterns?

She hums,

waltzes a few steps.

 

Remember the parades.

My father so beloved

marching?

 

A black cloud

passes overhead

everything shadows,

a clock strikes the hour.

 

She shivers.

Drops the invitation.

 

“Come Patricia

You’ll catch a chill.

James puts his arm

around her and says,

 

“Thank you so much

for delivering the invitation.

 

“Please extend our regrets.

 

“We can’t get there.” 

from here.”