Princess real
I entered bedraggled, sodden,
on that storm fed night.
My frantic knocking bringing King himself
unlocking city gate so that I might
be given shelter, warmth, dry clothes,
a bed who's height I could not comprehend.
Twenty mattresses; as many eider-downs I counted.
So that a ladder's aid was needed to ascend
to such a fitful, wretched sleep,
that not a wink was gained.
At morning, as King and Queen did query
if good rest had been attained.
I answered true. Emboldened, told them
of the night's acute distress;
revealed my bruisings, marks strange.
At this the Royals did confess
to their quest of seeking Princess real,
with skin a sheath of sensitivity.
So pure, a tiny pea neath bedding tower
would reveal blue blood proclivity.
To whit; the test of Princess real now passed,
the best wife would I make
for their only, princely son.
Together marriage vows we'd take.
Feeling deep unease within my heart,
I questioned fate at play.
Was this inevitable, foretold,
being tricked in such a cunning way?
Helpless in the storm I'd been,
but my soul did not neglect the knowing
That a Princess real is more than flesh and bone.
The debate through castle chambers flowing,
luring Prince into the fray
to find the cause of voices raised.
His presence did not disappoint, as we
each the other's thoughts and stance appraised.
Face to face and word to word,
agreement did we reach.
Equitable nuptials; a mutual conclusion.
Persons first, Prince and Princess second.
An admirable illusion.
© Grapher November 19, 2012
