She rode a shiny horse
On an intricately petaled path
Waving effusively as only she could.
Dressed in a scarlet robe
She beamed her usual sleek smile
Effused with royalty
One some of us seldom get to see.
It was the ritual princess stroll
Where she picks her husband to be;
The crowd was disparate
With the rich and affluent
Her first contact.
She kept riding slowly deep into the village
Past where all other princesses often stop;
I felt my heart pounding
Secretly wishing she would stop in front of me.
I laughed at my own folly
The princess wouldn’t;
She wouldn’t even see me
A lowly farm boy, lost in the crowd.
I closed my eyes as she drew nearer
Mesmerized by the approaching aura;
Suddenly there was a deafening silence
I wondered why
And opened my eyes to know.
All eyes were on me
As the whole village stood silently in shock;
The horse was breathing slowly
And I could feel his warm breath on me.
She reached out her fragile arm
From atop the horse;
I looked into her glowing eyes
Glaring down at me
And I was lost in the inherent beauty.
Tradition dictates that I hold her outstretched hand
But I was numb from head to toe;
I was shocked at the impossible
And equally trapped in her grace.
She touched my face
Sending nerve wrecking chills down my spine;
That not only melted me,
It also broke my lucid dream.