A Dad Pavan For a Dead Peincess
Another whispering season passes away.
The feeble take shelter under straw roofs.
A Princess is dead
her Prince is a 'person of interest'.
See how she is laid upon the yellowing,
as a jaundiced questioning mark
upon a blighted dance floor?
Do you hear the sad music?
An invisible killer composed it.
The days look in vain for a new tune to sing.
When this ancient legend un-dreams itself
the Princess will resurrect us,
there will be a last minute pardoning;
for an accident is not murder,
just a slaughter to be managed.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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