Wishful Thinking

In marble halls
inside marble walls
everything is rosy
her life is pristine

She silently reposes
in melancholy mood-swing
endlessly supposes.

All that glitters is not gold
Does she really have it all?

She waves the fan
wafts a spray of air
acutely aware the slightest
lift of a hand would see
her every whim fulfilled by
those tasked to give her
most royal majesty whatever
she asks, or indeed…

But yet…she yearns.

She sees another world
out there, beyond the cover of those
sterile walls which hold it all but are
so lacking in warmth and love.

The book of powders that she reads
to make a face both glow or pale doesn’t
captivate a mind whose senses need
to feel erotic breath in all
colours of a life that’s lived
…..not governed.

Her thoughts stray
as the water draws her into its
constant energy and flow but
now they tend to go beyond
this musical contemplation.

Calling to her heart, she knows life
is in every beautiful thing to be
seen there, blossoming in those
grasses and gardens of another heart that
beats and breathes without the
need or care to impress a
mighty crown.

One day…

Will she find the courage to
fling down the book…
and take the first step across
a bridge of hope that divides
the rich but sterile from
the living true.


© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

Shared with The Sunday Whirl #66

Author: Daydreamer

I live on a beautiful island in Atlantic Canada.

15 thoughts on “Wishful Thinking”

  1. I’m not sure she’s prepared for what’s on the other side of that bridge! Lovely poem. Thanks.

  2. Case in point that money doesn’t buy happiness. At first I thought you were talking about menopause.

  3. wow, dreamer, your poem describes many stay-at-home bookworms. the dull contentment
    that is unable to overide the erotic desires.

  4. “Will she find the courage to
    fling down the book…
    and take the first step across
    a bridge of hope that divides
    the rich but sterile from
    the living true.”

    Pow! You knock it home. I always wonder if those I see through their glass windows have a life, so I loved how you had this figure yearning out like some Rapunzel who has no will, or as in The Secret Garden where the inability to walk symbolizes this crippled spirit–tho one cannot blame the children. It’s hard to feel sorry for the RICH and stuck, though. Sterility.

    I’ve been meaning to ask where you get or the marvelous illustrations that accompany your poems. You always say if they are your own pics, but they are all adding to my reading of your poems.

  5. Yeah one may think they have it all but being couped up and not seeing the world at all doesn’t make much out of her life.

  6. Just watched a rerun of the first Batman movie. Rich man plays dumb so he can be a hero. I’m guessing though that most Queens just can’t get up and go. We always seem to want what we don’t have. Reminds me too of another show I watched…some kind of royalty, maybe a Duchess in the 1800’s – hubby was allowed his flings. Would have allowed hers too if she hadn’t thrown ‘it’ in his face. It was an arranged marriage and they never did love each other.

    Thanks for your visit. Some words are indeed left better to imagination than explanation.

  7. the division between the rich and the living…that sum this up well bren, and there are def downsides to the seclusion that can come with airs….

  8. Could get messy when she crosses over from sterile & pristine. Makes me think of Estella in Great Expectations.

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