Behind Every Great Man
The fate of man
through ages past,
wiles upon wiles construed in sand.
Destinies floating by on leaves of chance.
Decisions born to heat romance.
Yet, the consequence his to bear alone
to take to the death or throne.
How naïve oh great ones?
His greatness
self imposed of will.
Yet in the shadow of his success
there she lies in silent contemplation.
She dreams of his next feat of self adoration.
This busy little bee, constantly in his ear,
waiting for a simple “yes, my dear”,
coming from shear exasperation.
May 2011 Charles Henderson Short poem contest
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