• Antara Basu


Putting on a corset, I gaze at the mirror, Such beauty, I cannot eloquent. Layers of deep periwinkle silk and Rich lavender net, Assemble that exquisite ball gown. Pulling it over my head, I feel it's velvety touch, Tighten the bows and smoothen the net. They pin the corsage and the royal gem, Strings of pearls soon grace my fair neck I don on, those dainty opera gloves, Sleek and lacy adorned with frills It glazes my petite fingers. A touch of powder here, A bit of shine there A dab of scent, And luscious lips, darkened eyes and Long eyelashes, A picturesque sight to behold, Long mane curled into a bun, A single strands falls from the side, poise and elegant. They pull my feet into glass slippers, And hand me the roses. And as I stand, An aura of magic envelopes me in, I step towards the holder, which now held my future. The tiara of the kingdom, my father lost to. Crystal embossed, intricately crafted, It's a true beauty. But placing it on my head, I feel the terror sweep me over I feel the magic losing its charm, Disappearing, into the depths of despair I feel the woe and gloom engulf me in, But I hold my head up, And wear my pride, on my heart Ready, to be the bride of the victor, Who conquered my father, And ravaged my kingdom, Who destroyed my people And ruined my tranquil land The victor to whom I had been pledged, For him to spare our realm, Looking around for the last glance I walk out the door as a princess, For the last time.