Snow falls onto a castle spire<\/p>\n
and a princess sits, near burned by the fire<\/p>\n
Peasant children play in the grounds below but it’s not a pleasure the princess knows<\/p>\n
Her hands are gentle, soothed by fragrance and oil<\/p>\n
Bathed in milk and honey, she dons the jewels of a royal<\/p>\n
Her skin is untouched by the Pauper’s sun,<\/p>\n
She longs to pick flowers, if only just one<\/p>\n
Bells from the church break blasphemous thought<\/p>\n
though a feeling nags, her status is for naught<\/p>\n
She finds her warmest cloak, ties its strings beneath her throat<\/p>\n
slips past the guard and treks to the yard<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The jester she finds drunken and merry<\/p>\n
as if he’d just eaten bush-berry<\/p>\n
She pulls her hood tight, her presence he’d make light<\/p>\n
She tries to sneak past, but the his will outlasts<\/p>\n
yet instead of his rousing frolick and play,<\/p>\n
he inches in to say:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“Dear Heiress, I am glad you are here<\/p>\n
There is deception from those who are near<\/p>\n
Though she feigns quite demure,<\/p>\n
our queen\u00a0is impure<\/p>\n
Yes, there is another\u00a0who desires your riches,<\/p>\n
and the queen will do as she wishes<\/p>\n
Because for those who seek power,<\/p>\n
There is no shame in stomping a flower<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The soothsayer waits in the wood past town<\/p>\n
but you must halt until the sun goes down<\/p>\n
Do as you please, but I felt you should know,<\/p>\n
as we all have times in which we must go-<\/p>\n
But heed this, princess, whatever you choose<\/p>\n
the hearts of your people, you shall never lose<\/p>\n
Return to the castle at once, my liege,<\/p>\n
your citizens ensure you will travel with ease”<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The princess pulls back the hood of her cloak<\/p>\n
to find she is surrounded by solemn townsfolk<\/p>\n
Deeply they bow as she treks through the snow<\/p>\n
Burdened with thoughts of family turned foe<\/p>\n
She enters her chambers to find a lady in wait,<\/p>\n
with worry in her face\u00a0and panic in her gait<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“The queen seeks your ear, your counsel she desires<\/p>\n
She waits in the hall in her seat by the fire<\/p>\n
but there is a man of whom I’ve never seen<\/p>\n
The look in his eyes is of a frightful dream<\/p>\n
Forgive me, princess, if I speak out of turn<\/p>\n
I may be a fool, but my stomach, it churns”<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The princess nods, embraces her lady in wait<\/p>\n
grazes her cheek and wipes the tear from her face<\/p>\n
She looks to the sun hanging low in the sky,<\/p>\n
thinks of the Fool and his knowledge of lies<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“If it is truly counsel my queen desires,<\/p>\n
then I shall meet her in hell, in her seat by the fire”<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Snow falls onto a castle spire and a princess sits, near burned by the fire Peasant children play in the grounds below but it’s not a pleasure the princess knows Her hands are gentle, soothed by fragrance and oil Bathed in milk and honey, she…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5259,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11,7,12,1],"tags":[2461,5738,5737],"class_list":["post-136035","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem","category-marathon-poem","category-musings","category-uncategorized","tag-hour11","tag-marissawolfe","tag-poetrymarathon2023"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/136035","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/5259"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=136035"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/136035\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":136096,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/136035\/revisions\/136096"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=136035"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=136035"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=136035"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}