Who Needs Princes
Shannon watched a royal wedding
one afternoon on the TV,
the flowers, coaches, and garlands,
all the pomp and majesty,
the fancy gowns and ornate hats,
black-tie suits that fit handsomely,
noble steeds pulling carriages,
in her minds arose fantasies…
She saw herself in a ballroom
twirling ’round her paramour,
taking the hand of her suave prince,
in the arch of a gothic door,
cruising the warm Riviera
in a yacht that would leave most floored,
closets full of lovely dresses,
rows of the fanciest shoes galore.
She dreamed of sprawling palaces,
of servant to see to her whims,
four-poster bed, with chandelier,
to lie down and make love to him,
a gilded, bulging treasury,
gold and silver and jewels within;
all girls want to be princesses,
the thought of it still made her grin.
But then she recalled another
prince who had gone on a talk show,
airing all the dirty laundry,
sought to lay his family low,
and another caught cheating with
a stewardess while on the go,
the tabloids found out, ran wild,
until folks were all in the know.
She recalled the older prince who
folks said was a pedophile,
and how it all had been hushed up,
elites don’t like to stand trial,
and she saw how they lived planned lives,
schedules just weren’t her style,
and travelling without her kids,
not seeing them for long whiles?
It make her look out to the den,
on the couch slept her husband, Stan,
in his arms snoozed little Carmen;
as a father, none were more grand,
he worked, he sweat, he came off rough,
but always by her did he stand,
what need had Shannon of princes
when she’d landed herself a man.
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2021
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