The king did send word o’er lands – high and flat
If there be men fit for your acquaintance;
Bedecked in braids of your beauty you sat-
O Princess, you of the South West highlands,
Have you the faintest idea of your charms?
The keys your mien strikes in the hearts of men?
Pour they in – princes, barons and gendarmes –
Who shall your Highness choose of all these then?
Bear in mind, your beauty is amplified
By focus of mind and high skill of hand-
Does the lore of personage so rarefied
Not the stamp of perpetuity demand?
Thence, quill in one hand, I submit a bard –
Your hand in my other be my reward.
©Asiman Panda 2017
The Timber Trawler 