Royal Debacle

She sighs
sitting upon her divan
gloriously done
in silken threads and chiffon
like a royal adorned
with flowers in her hair made of gold.
Yet a trembling sets in
as she sits with eyes closed
and a finger tracing her own lips
softly
as if holding on to a memory.
‘Miss Caroline,’ her name was called
and she rose ever unsure
was she doing the right thing
another caress of her lip with eyes shut
recalling the kiss.
Was she sure?
‘Miss Caroline, are you ready?’ came the maid’s voice,
heading popping around the corridor.
Caroline stood upon shaky legs and followed,
ever turning to look out the window
to the horizon her desperate eyes seeked
the prince of her dreams.
He had made a promise to return after all,
but when? It had been a year and more.
Yet the kiss lingered as a phantom
wrecking havoc galore.
As she enters the hall,
all the guests, the distinguished men and women stand tall,
welcoming the future Royal Bride
who till this last moment wished
and hoped a known face would hurtle through that door
and whisk her off her feet
adornments and all.
Yet the time ticked and the door remained closed
and upon her slender finger was slipped a ring
small yet it weighed the world
her own world
asking a question again and again
what happened to that promise
that dream
of love.
Around her went applause and cries
inside her a silence that yawned wider
ever wider,
for how long she dared not think.

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