Spanish Prince

When planet  Earth changed from unknown
To colorful drawings on a map,
I dreamed of meeting, when I am grown,
A Prince of Spain – young cadet.

Amidst the years of harsh learning
And rediscovering the world,
That wish had lived in spite of what’s proper,
Kept me alive on sticky turns.

I’m looking back at wrong and bitter,
At ego, lust, and wracked soul;
At glory, happiness and vigor,
At the dream that shrunken to the null.

These recent days realization
Fills slowly grooves of saddened mind:
Where are you, Prince of Spanish nation,
The never–coming prince of mine?

If you could’ve known where I’ve gone,
Would you give me a shoulder of support?
If you’d feel lost in pedigrees,
I’d surely given you a kiss.

Or, may be somewhere in your teens
You had a dream of silly me
Who wants just what she cannot have —
A Prince of Spain for a friend.

What if when princing on your horse
You had a vision of a girl
From tiny place who knows where
Humming about toreador,

Weaving her braids with water lilies,
Reciting poetry on love,
Craving a date, sweet and idyllic,
Counting you as her betrothed.

Would you consider for a moment
Such turn of fate? Though I admit
That I have never been to Spain
For us to meet.


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