We all lose our slippers sometimes
And the steps are slick with frost
Prince charming isn't always on his way
Before we realise what we've lost

Midnight arrives with grim precision
Cuts like a knife through butter dreams
But the dance was so enticing
Though the dress has tattered seams

A pumpkin's all you need of freedom
When magic trickles through the air
Don't let hope slip through your fingers
Just from waiting, scrubbing stairs.