Mistress in Blue
by Samantha Rain
The mistress in blue slipped through my window.
Once again, she has come to sell me a dream.
Clad in navy silk,
she robed herself in silent mystery--
the blanket of a midnight fog
masking more than a mere bedtime story.
The lady is a merchant, a witch, a druid of illusion
who has sworn to me
she can turn any beautiful, soothing lie of mine
to a new false hearted reality.
So, pressing a key to my temple,
she allowed flecks of gold and rust to pour;
taking form in her hand--
now in the shape of a coin.
A moment of hesitation, but with her greed she could never part.
So as she tucked it away, she whispered my wish to the stars.
And upon careful consideration,
they lent me a compliant cloud;
mirroring whatever image or spell
I could not bring myself to say aloud.
Yet, even though business was done,
she lingered for a little while long.
Treading her way to the foot of my bed,
I caught her eyes fixated on my pillow damp with dread.
Judging by her expression, I can see
she has become intimate with the root of my mourning.
And as the mistress graced me with a final warning,
I knew by heart this was a gift of parting...
Finally, in a hushed murmur, she solemnly vowed to me,
a fantasy of forgotten happiness I will be most blessed to see,
but none with such wisdom as the curse of the memory and nightmare
that was always meant to be.
Once again, she has come to sell me a dream.
Clad in navy silk,
she robed herself in silent mystery--
the blanket of a midnight fog
masking more than a mere bedtime story.
The lady is a merchant, a witch, a druid of illusion
who has sworn to me
she can turn any beautiful, soothing lie of mine
to a new false hearted reality.
So, pressing a key to my temple,
she allowed flecks of gold and rust to pour;
taking form in her hand--
now in the shape of a coin.
A moment of hesitation, but with her greed she could never part.
So as she tucked it away, she whispered my wish to the stars.
And upon careful consideration,
they lent me a compliant cloud;
mirroring whatever image or spell
I could not bring myself to say aloud.
Yet, even though business was done,
she lingered for a little while long.
Treading her way to the foot of my bed,
I caught her eyes fixated on my pillow damp with dread.
Judging by her expression, I can see
she has become intimate with the root of my mourning.
And as the mistress graced me with a final warning,
I knew by heart this was a gift of parting...
Finally, in a hushed murmur, she solemnly vowed to me,
a fantasy of forgotten happiness I will be most blessed to see,
but none with such wisdom as the curse of the memory and nightmare
that was always meant to be.
Samantha Rain is a Latina writer from El Paso, TX. Her work has been previously published in Beyond Words Literary Magazine and the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, in which she won Silver. She adores cats, antiques, and old cinema.