The Palace

The finest crystal glass I own,

Thinnest china,

Floors acres of marble stone,

In my home.

Silks and satins of every intense shade,

Embroidered napkins that took months to be made

Silver cutlery at my tables laid.

He gave ma a plasma

So I could see,

The world outside,

Apart from me.

I never had to lift a thumb,

Here I remain,

Comfortable, numb.

I hide behind the black burdah

When visitors come,

Sitting silent

Like a soldier in a bunker,

Observing the enemy.

He built me a gilded gate,

Encrusted with precious jewels.

Emeralds twinkling envy,

Diamonds blinding bright,

Drowning blue sapphires.

What treasures from outside they see!

But he never gave me the key.

In the busily pattered court yard,

Reflected in full moon light,

I spin as a whirling dervish

Till colours blur to white

And transport myself,

To a squeaking sandy beach,

In the light of a new dawn,

With the fresh breeze blowing

My cotton Muslin dress.