Cinderella
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In bare and dusty feet she wields her broom
with none save cat, and creatures of light
To break the days spent work-worn in the gloom
Or twilight by the cinders, black as night
Her clothes just rags, and meagre scraps for food
To drudge, to toil, her daily lot - her strife
As days go by with naught to break her mood
tough tasks done prefect, lonely is her life
While siblings, not blood, take centre stage
Bark orders, preen and scorn this cinder lass
But walks in beauty, none that can surpass
This cinder girl - the fairest in the land
Knows not, one day, a prince will seek her hand.
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