The princess prances down the halls as if
she owns them one and all, self-anointed
so, by perceiving princely bold advances
and apparent surreptitious glances

Pretender to the throne, she insists
that it’s her wits that got her there,
as she’s wont to wear her tight gown and
her polished, flaxen crown

She knows her best chances are when her
cover is judged, surreptitious glances
in the magic mirror, making sure her
natural make-up’s not smudged

She thinks her prince will let her rule,
but a prince wouldn’t marry the court
fool, she’ll just be one fool of two,
and a court has no need for two jesters

A couplet without a rhyme, a true prince
sees past her prime, to a distant time, he
can imagine a scene with his coming queen
who needn’t preen to be seen

O’er kingdom and land, they’ll rule hand
in hand, battle armor in matching sets, no
wants or regrets, and together laugh as the
jester dances and prances in their hall
art: Jester by Victoria Francés
daily prompt: Narcissism