and as the day deepens into blue
a few last fingers of light
part the branches of the old Maple
to cast a blessing
on the leaves that thrive in its shade,
exposing the hole
in the apron of one,
the tattered edges of another,
and still they bask in the sun,
arching and unfurling;
Cinderella glowing
in that one brief moment of love
before midnight falls,
the glass shoes dissolve into dust
and her briefly golden gown
subsides to rags.
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