26 - Office squire

A squire sits in his office chair, laden

With plastics and chemicals- all sterile.

He shines the steel and fancies the maiden

Afar, who ignores the petty gentile.


Lordship comes, boots of ebony leather

Harken like clapped applause up the stairwell.

We feign our silence- you can hear a feather,

But we’re paid to. You’re beyond meek, Bombshell.


Cladded up in vestiges fine, like God,

Your mothpure cotton belies a facade.

#


Were this squire, a squire true- He’d be with horse.

He’d be in stable, brush ahand, tending

To walking gold. If it were true, of course,

He’d do as told, or at least pretending.


When beast arrest, and rest they will, the squire

Will tend himself to court. Bitch of marble

Is how they see him, mumbled by respire.

Besides the candles, perhaps it’s more carnal.


King athrone’d, crown appieced, he guides the crowd

The squire sits, bored, appeased, head deeply bowed.

#


When all’s done, court’s closed, candles burnt to wick.

A courts-maid teases our little hero squire,

his cleaning so distracted with her tricks,

By a moonlit room, this cherub's face he admired.


They were all that’s there, the last of the flock.

And we know where the heart goes, when so young-

Or I did, always too keen to defrock.

So they did, by marble bodies of heroes among.


Her fine figure rests on the hardest throne,

And the squire, well knowing, stifled a moan.

#


Shame then, that he’s no squire, nor our hero.

He’s a man, like you, boring and stifled.

Sat at a desk, wishing to be Nero

And failing even as a disciple.


To be inspired by greats, and wish of them too,

And to want to leave our life behind-

It’s fine, it’s human, we wish for life new,

Especially when it’s gotten confined.


But at least be inspired, break rules, be great.

Or your dreams will never be your fate.