Dama de Noche

 

The sound of bells

and silent chatter

from each side of the isle

and white petals that spread on

the crimson stretch

Behold:

A fairytale of maharlikas and

village maids.

 

Draped in gold and silver

the man let go

of dining

and feasting with nobilities

instead

he searched for her—

Dama, the village lass

 

However

Time passed and he grew tired of her

pampering

cooking

doing laundry

folding clothes

She was a simple maiden who could only offer

an ordinary face

rough hands

and little warmth in bed.

He spent his evening back

to drinking the finest wines

and kissing beautiful women

in silken dresses

and jewels that hung

on their necks.

 

One night

when the moon was full

a simple chant was sent to the gods.

 

He knew it was Dama—

the flower on the balcony

a pale, little white star

that grieved

and called for him at night.

The maharlika mourned for her

in regret.

Now that she was beautiful

and fragrant—

she was useless.

Tags: alpha, dama de noche, mythopoem, poetry