Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Headline: Royal Has Fallen for Peasant

How did the royal fall for the peasant?

Purple die around faded gingham shawl, head beneath crown of jewels and gold next to head with chestnut curls...

Let us go to the populace
What do they think?

How they gossip behind closed doors, whispers a plenty, malice like malaise, apoplectic answers,

"How could the royal fall for the peasant?!"

His form of address spoiled by her visage.

How could he be so rash?

Breech of contract, failure to heed to elders, to comply to centuries old statues.

Abdicate!  Secede, succumb to pressure!  Unfit to exude your reign.

A dandelion amidst roses, a thorn amidst petals, a scar in the flesh, the bitter spot amidst sweet, an off-key note amidst the symphony, the misspelled word amidst the novel, the stain on the masterpiece, the shrimp amongst the giants...that the peasant is...

Indignant voices echo off their protective bubble.

How could the royal fall for the peasant?

"She is my sapphire, my marmalade, my lavender..."

"He is my igneous, my granite, my marble..."

The populace now sit upon their laurels, concocting up grand illusions...infinite solutions...sneaky schemes to this heretical heinous union,

but it endures forever, never to be broken.

How could the royal fall for the peasant?

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