The Genie by Diane Frank

The Genie

The dancing girl in the yellow silk pants

shimmered in my dream.

She was a flame that kept burning in the morning.

If I bring her to Aladdin,

I can gaze into her chocolate eyes

and lose myself in the maze of her footsteps.

Aladdin thinks I am his servant,

but every morning I weave a dream

into the world where he walks by the river.

I hold my prism in the river of sunlight,

each wave of color a possibility

to weave footsteps into the world

I paint every morning.

I can dream or disappear

into the longing for the light

that becomes invisible

inside the bronze of my lamp.

Every morning, you choose

to dance or disappear.

– Diane Frank