We met in that enchanting way
in palace corridors spying the other.
Our eyes locked as our worlds faded
and thoughts of others dimmed to sputters.

Awestruck, we danced a careful ballet
hesitant, neither sure the steps of summer, 
and resigned hope of finding worthy words to say;
we just smiled, listening to time's beating drummer.

Her name, for shame I could not fathom or remember, 
and as I dared to finally speak , I felt her shutter, 
the spell broke like some truth betrayed
to flee in autumn’s bounty sleigh.

I still have that magic shoe
but there may be other feet more true.
I trust Him with feet who’s laces I shan’t undo
to find me one, in time it may be you!