Paul James Poet Prose Poetry

Princess

So you will marry the princess, my son.
I don’t love the princess, my father, at least not that one.
There is only one princess, my son. Go to her, reach out to her and marry her.
And the other princess?
I know of no other princess.
The one who lives in the castle beyond the forest?
Beyond the forest there is only dry grass, it can’t even sustain the cows.
It sustains her, my father.
Does she live on air?
I love her.
How often have you strayed beyond the forest, my son?
The trees open onto sunsets.
Has your mother never told you not to look into the setting sun?
It blended with her dress, her beauty blinded me.
It blinded you to your duty. Your duty awaits you deep among the trees.
My death awaits me there, my father.
Your death awaits you in the dry grass.
Then I will die happy, my father.

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