The Fool
The Fool sat listening as her sweet words filled the air
each nuanced syllable sending chills through his body,
each glance cast upon him, a moment of eternal ecstasy.
Does this fool not hear me, the Queen thought to herself.
I’ve spoken in plain speech that even a fool should understand,
If not my words than my glares should make it clear.
She speaks to me he thought to himself,
but how can this be, she is the Queen
and I, with nothing, am but a mere worthless, meaningless Fool.
Just because I smile at him on occasion, he thinks there is more.
Yes, his hugs are warm, and candies are sweet,
but he must know he means nothing to me.
Pansies, roses, lilies, all but fading flowers.
Compared to her beauty they pale and hide in the shadows,
but she never refuses them, when I pick them for her she smiles.
More flowers, a sweet gesture, why does he give them to me?
Doesn’t he know this could never be, her lips curl gently.
She looks down at the flowers unable to look into his eyes, fool, she thinks.
I, the lonely Fool, the lonely fool, beneath my smiling mask,
I listen to her words that sting, but feel the warmth of her touch.
I bathe in her beautiful eyes yet feel the pain each time she turns away.
…I am such a fool!
He is a fool, my Fool, he is always there for me, good or bad.
Even in my cruelty he listens, with respect, without judging.
I wish for his happiness. I wish him love, I wish things could be different
…for this caring, beautiful Fool.
12/27/2017
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2017
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