When people grieve for Dukes and Princesses

people they feel they knew,

their grief is from somewhere else.

The passing of time,

a golden age they imagined,

things that won’t come to pass,

disappointment,

a security blanket suddenly whipped away.

Being mortal

that’s the worst part.

That’s a well with no measure of depth.

I am not going to jump into that drowning place

for people I never met

whether I think I liked them or not.

Imagine being the poet laureate,

having to write peons of praise.

I’d say they are brave,

but they’re probably liars.