A Poem

Another Monday, cold and grey. 

Even the smell of freshly brewed coffee can't make the cobwebs go away.

The thought of permanent sleep is close to my heart,

But I am a victim of my art. 

I need to play, but that can't be done,

The reasons for this a far more than one...

Why did I end up here in a place that I hate? 

Another reason I can not relate.

Am I a poet? Good heaven's NO

I'm dreaming of somewhere nice to go.

A place all sunny, bright and so gay

That it makes the nightly demons go away

Perhaps with a sparkly beach near by

So that I can sit down on golden sand and cry.

The waves will wash my tears away

And maybe that will be a place where I can stay.

A place of beauty and warmth and no snow

So that my inner self can come back and glow.

I just wish to be happy and have fun and play

And not be surrounded by all this grey.

Yes, I am lonely and I feel sad

In spite of some good things, and that makes me feel bad.

My spirit has left me and my freezing heart.

Where do I look to for rescue? My art?

It's just another Monday, cold and grey

And the coffee did not make the cobwebs go away....

Royalty

We watched a documentary about the house of Winsor. Not the current ones, but from way back, when they were still in black and white..... King George and Queen Mary. I firmly bleive that every nation needs a King and Queen. The people need someone they can look up to and admire. Let's face it, our politicians are mostly not any kind of role model, and looking up to heiresses, soccer players or pop stars is not really satisfying, at least for me. I'm sure that every little girl dreams of being a princess at one stage in her life, wearing bejeweled gowns and tiaras, going to balls and falling in love with a dashing Prince, preferably on a white or black horse, driving about in gilded carriages and waving regally to her people... Of course I would not know whether little boys dream of being king, but then, who cares ;-)

Last night, as I was once again removing my face and storing it in a safe place for the night, I dreamt up a scenario, where I would receive a letter from Buckingham Palace, declaring that I was some long lost royal relative (after all the German and British monarchy were mixed up with one another), and that it was the Queen's wish that I would be incorporated into the royal family. I do have some connection to royalty somewhere way back, so it would be ever so slightly believable.... Of course I would not get to be Queen, Prince William and his Kate are much better suited for that job, but I would get a palace and pretty dresses with matching shoes and maybe even a carriage. I conveniently blended out the part of hurting feet, because of having to wear high heels all the time. The cat would have plenty of rooms to play in and the turtles would have a great big heated pool. Maybe I could play as a soloist with the London Philharmonic Orchestra occasionally. It would be wonderful to read the announcement: this evening's soloist will be HRH Princess Sonja in Korngold's Violin Comcerto.... And Thomas could do the ruling of the country bit. I'm sure the current Prince of Wales is far too busy being Prince, representing, and raising children. The only problem I see there is that Thomas is not really a suit person, so we might have to work on his style of dressing. I must say, I truly warmed to this scenario. So, when I emerged from the bathroom, I stood in front of Thomas, faceless and in a pale blue nighty with the word "loveable" embroidered on the front, and announced that I intend to be a princess. After some sighing and more contemplation, Thomas informed me that he did not want to be royal. All the dinner parties and paparazzi.... But he did not mind the idea of a palace to live in. And then he said that I already WAS royal....I am apparently his Queen. Needless to say, I melted there and then, and regally climbed the stairs to the bedroom, feeling very much a princess :-) Now if he would only get me a diamond tiara, and maybe a sparkling emerald necklace (emeralds are supposed to bring beauty and eternal youth), cleaning the house would seem so much more pleasant.

Of course the cat would need a suitable collar, and her arias need to be transformed into something more noble. We will work on that.

Yes, you may call me "Your Majesty" and please  remember to curtsy when you run into me.