Of Ducks and Kings

I stare at them: which one will try and take
What otherwise might never grace their head
Which one thinks that he'd rather rule instead
This pack of jackals waits for a mistake

Who fantasizes, covets my new wife
Does she encourage one of them to mount
Is it the duke, the baron, or the count
The thought of it does make me clench my knife

I know the duke keeps writing to the Pope
The baron, to his uncle in Calais
The count is patient, waiting to make hay
I mustn’t give them, not a shred of hope

At last the kitchens serve a roasted duck
I raise a glass, I must make the first toast
“Well met, my sons, and now, do try this roast!
As you can see, no feathers left to pluck”

I stare at them: which one will try and take
What otherwise might never grace their head
My boys take after me, that’s what I dread
And I’ve learned all I could from dad’s mistake

Author notes: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2782522-Heroic-Fantasy-195