She wanted the silent heraldry Of the purple beach by the noble wall. He wanted Cabala the ghetto demon With its polythene bag full of ashes. - ted hughes folk tale *** Your poems are like a dark city centre. Your novel, your stories, your journals, your letters, are suburbs Of this big city. The hotels are lit like office blocks all night With scholars, priests, pilgrims. It's at night Sometimes I drive through. I just find Myself driving through, going slow, simply Roaming in my own darkness, pondering What you did. Nearly alwaysI glimpse you - at some crossing, Staring upwards, lost, sixty year old.... -ted hughes birthday letters *** Cinderella The prince leans to the girl in scarlet heels, Her green eyes slant, hair flaring in a fan Of silver as the rondo slows; now reels Begin on tilted violins to span The whole revolving tall glass palace hall Where guests slide gliding into light like wine; Rose candles flicker on the lilac wall Reflecting in a million flagons' shine, A