Who Is She?

Perhaps the gilded slipper doesn’t fit

that girdles tight her arches under step,

and, barefoot, Eros’ tower she’ll acquit

for me to follow cloven over step.

A stride by stride, a flight by taking wing,

a part so small has no determined path

as princess-wooing-poet for the king

to only be loved in love’s aftermath.

We’ve heard that tale before, but who is she?

Who is my heroine? How does she feel?

What made her turn her step away from me?

If she looked just as me, would I turn heel?

I know I cannot know her by her face,

but every man would fall upon her grace.