The Old Prince and the Old Princess

I wrote this a few years ago, after getting involved with Jim E. Maybe I don't need to feel sorry for the Prince after all...

The old prince and the old princess

The old prince
bears burdens for
young squires.
She watches from her grotto.
Wise, noble, strong, she thinks,
Where is his kingdom?
A prince of his years should be a king.

She watches from her grotto.
Her face is wet.
So is her hair,
her arms, her torso,
her green tail sparking in the sea.
She watches young merfolk dance, hears them sing.
I will never join them, she says,
never again.

She sings alone in her grotto.
The young ones bring her toys
to mend, hear her sing an old song
they have forgotten,
and will forget again.
I am nothing now, she says.
Her face is wet.

He has never seen one like her, never heard
a young, a strong, a perfect of her kind.

Her spell is strong enough for him.

She pities the old prince. What will he do, she thinks,
when he sees
that I am not complete?