The Would Be King
by C.M.V.S. von Uthemann
Swift as a glorious panther,
Fierce as wounded bear,
Sinking in the silence of moutained vastness.
Ending like a saint asleep in a pit of despair.
Brittle and bent like a bow aglow
In the starless night, moaning so slow.
The best of the brave men's breeding,
Damned, slain, decapitated with a treacherous blow.
A maiden raised his handsome head,
Fondled a vagrant curl of the heedless Dead,
Unleashing young memories of Yesteryears,
Tenderly fingered the frozen face of Adonis on his final bed.
Destiny hastened to meet him down the way.
Oh, the World isn't always gay.
It's cruel, coarse an unjust
In spite of the amber sun against a primrose day.
He sought the land long famed for sport and gold,
Where women were fair, regal and cold.
As Alpine skier, aviator, ambassador, banker, many a height he'd won.
He'd voyaged to the Seven Lonely Seas, we've been told.
What magnificent King of France he might have been,
First son of the Duke and Duchess of Segovia, descended from Louis XVI
Victorious as the Duke of Anjou and the Head of the Bourbons,
Defeating in battle, Henri D'Orleans, the Duke of Clermont, his cousin.
The Duke of Cadiz and Duke of Anjou was made to be good
For a home that is sweet with a spouse to love and rear his brook,
With little Fran and Louis Alfonso playing around his feet,
And fireside blessings with his brother, friends, and the bliss of fatherhood.
Life might have been a ceaseless feast,
head the Guild of heaven formed with stars and not the Beast
Who hurled him mercilessly to the ends of the Earth
Fate marked him out for her prey on a late January, Beaver Creek's tryst.
A poor maiden now left seeking a wary nun's solace.
Thank God it's over, and she's relieved never to face
The haunting dreams, so full of merry chimes
Of wedding bells with the vanished Groom ... "Eternal rest, Your grace."