Oh Theodore is dashing, but he has certain heirs and ways

Of course he does, he’s a Prince and I must do what his Mother says

It’s his Mother the Queen who frightens me; with her sharpened, whip-like tongue

In time we shall be expected to rule a Kingdom and yet I feel so young

No doubt his Grace is a kind man, but what is it to be in love;

Do the birds chirp even louder and angels sing in the realms above?

Or is this a foolish, girlish fantasy that I must conceal

But do I really care for Theodore, what is this I feel?

I think I’m excited by the status, endless money and more;

In short, I’m not besotted with him. I don’t love Theodore.

©Sophie Bowns 2011-2014

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23 thoughts on “My Betrothed

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