The Beauty: the Beast

Our golden prince, a youth so brash, once held

A party--T’was lavish, overflowing,

With dresses and suits mingling, all compelled

To agree with a boy who was glowing.

I wore my favorite dress, blue and long.

With intentions to woo him, I stayed near

All night. Then an old woman, not quite strong

At all, trudged up to the castle-- oh, dear.

She approached the prince, and I caught a glimpse

Of a rose in her withering  hand.  With

A point, the prince willed her away. She winced,

And there was darkness.  The castle-- a myth?

Such dreams haunt me.  I don’t recall this “beast,”

And none in town, a castle to the east.