All covet beauty for its lustrous power
For glamour is the monarch most men serve,
And be such reign not longer than an hour
Small fortunes paid in gold for that sweet myrrh;
Emblazoned so, the weak sex tastes of might
That has cleaved coeurs of kings no sword could slay
And even sovereigns with their glass may fight
To find reflections they would have portrayed.
A lovely face can be a regal crown
Whose sovereign shine shall yet time’s tarnish fear,
Of birthright pure, or paint, still held on loan
Wherein default may try in less a year.
Such is the paradox vanity imparts,
Where jester may yet rule as queen of hearts.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.