Miranda. (Revised Version)

Miranda
You do not know how beautiful
                                       you are
Hiding behind your hair
                                 and glasses,
The broad brim of your hat,
The book pressed to your nose.


Your mind,
            a makeshift dolls house
Lost deep in shady groves
On Prospero`s magic island
Is labelled, Out Of Bounds,
The blinds drawn down,
The door closed tight,
The key lost deep in leaf mould.
It seems that wary Prospero
Has tied you to his will
With infinite chains of shadow
That only love can break.


Miranda,
I am your father`s servant,
Perhaps one day you will stun me
                                  with a smile
Awakening birdsong
Echoing Ariel`s call
As he breaks free from the pine tree
That had been his prison cell
For twelve years and a day,
Meantime I dream you picking at ideas
Snatched from the books that pack your
                                        father`s library,
Flinging them high into into the island
                                                        air,
But not watching where they fall.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter,.
July 13th. - 2017. - March 13th. - 14th. - 18th.2018.
Whose thoughts are these, Ferdinand`s or Caliban`s?   Both, in very different ways, could describe themselves as being a servant of Prospero. One as the prospective son in law, but temporary prisoner,
the other as the enslaved former owner of the island. Both, in very different ways, were attracted to Miranda like moths to the flame. Both suffered burns, administered by Prospero.