Fair Son

Fair Son
Art thou young child a man to be?
Or will thou whine  and slough your ward?
Ten wee small fingers placed to be…
The cipher of  his Majesty?
Training through the day and night,
To fail would be a  travesty!
A noble, duke, or knight by chance?
Would make thy mark in this  small place.
With princesses you’d surely dance.
Known far and wide, an  honest face!
Will fate be kind my infant son?
Kings see you as a  chosen one?
IlaMae Stucki (c) 7/2012