The Lord of the Skillet.


Circa 1996.

Hail!

Harken!

Thither and yon —

But soft! What bright countenance

mine eye falls upon?

.

Now, dasher! Now, dancer!

A prancer!  — ( a vixen? )

Alights the Golf-Carriage

with skillet for fixin’!

.

I knew in a moment

this Gallant, but — more;

the wit of a Wizard

and, a babe !    ( twenty-four?)

.

Now I, in my dress black

(what e’er the big hurry??

The Gate to the Castle!

The Footman!….the Surrey!!)

.

A brush, then a blush,

With what cavalier flair

and, his ward, “Silverstone”

He escaped up the stair….!

.

I slid for the lav

Like a fox to her lair

(review for the music

and a comb for the hair)

.

No Lady-in-Waiting

no reason, no rhyme

no thought for the moment —

No wonder! No time.

.

A piano; a wedding;

a bride, and a groom;

The Dressed; then, a dee-jay

to liven the room….

.

I departed the Palace

and, stepped from the door

But, no Surrey, no Footman

alighted therefore

.

So, I tooled down the road

from the Highland Retreat

with a lingering thought

of a moment meet

.

When two stars, and a planet

Split a second in half

and, the Lord of the Skillet

made one Lady laugh.

.

.

.

.

© Ruth Ann Scanzillo

circa 1996.

all rights reserved. Your Highness.

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