Ode to Beloved King,
When I was but a lavished youth
I went to a party, seeking more joy
Found instead a fair, fair prince
Who asked me to crown him king.
He was sweetly-tongued and honey-eyed
Persuasive enough to wake a crowd,
And move them as he wants them to.
It turned true: he was crowned king.
When I was but a lavished youth
I went to a coronation, to bide time
Found instead a fair, fair king
Who asked me for a certain dance.
He was well-bodied and gracely-spoken
Whispered, "Have I met you before?
What is your name?" to me.
I shook my head: he does not remember.
When I was but a greening gal
I was specially invited to a ball
Dressed in trilling frocks and delicate silks
A florid mask and flower befitting my name.
Still, the king looked, looked and searched
Bright eyes dulled and heart beating fast
He hurried through the crowded maze
And at the end there was only I.
When I was but a greening gal
I could smile so sadly but mean happily
And embrace his large yet small form
I could kiss so fiercely but mean softly
And embrace his grown yet youthful heart.
I could speak nonsense but mean lovingly
And embrace my prince that was king
I could all those, save many more.
When I was but a pretty lady
I stole to a king's balcony
"I am leaving state this midnight.
Here I leave my goodbye."
I told the fair, fair king.
"For now, stay with me."
He replies finally, reclining
Pulled us into his bed for a final slumber.
When I was a lady turning thirty
I went to watch a king's wedding
It was ordained and went quickly,
Without time, without nurtured love
Only with bonds of wealth and peace
For a king, that was all.
I went to watch and met his eyes
He smiled, that was all.
When I had grown old as of now
I went to a party, seeking some joy
Found instead a king and his wife
Who asked me to remarry them.
They were hand-in-hand joyful lovers
Complete enough to outshine all else
Let us remarry, they said.
Let the world see us reborn.
When I am in coffin, so silenced
The king and his wife will attend
And cry tears of true memory
The people of the state will gather
And cry tears of long contemplation
The ghosts of the faithful dead will watch
And cry tears of lost regret
For me, that is all I hope they do.
When I was but a tittering child
I went to a castle to visit a friend
He was born to a human king
While I to a wanderer's myth.
He was rooted and I, not ever
Like the children we were, we played
By the light of our dreams and wishes, we played
We were friends, the best there ever will be.
From a Witch.