A Royal Meal

‘Twas the fifteenth day of March
and spring had set in whole and in a hurry.
The King and the royal lineage sat
down for supper, which was always a flurry.


The plates were set and napkins laid
in shapes splendid and smart;
Servants and cooks ran here and there
trying to satisfy the family’s hearts.


Snacks and salad arrived first,
with soup to complement.
The prince left it as it came
and back to the kitchens it was sent.


There was a look of satisfaction
on the faces of all those royal,
all but one, the King ‘twas,
whose face was close to boil!


“Come here at once!
Whoever is responsible for this.
I detest the snack lying in front of me,
All the spice is amiss!”


‘Drop silence followed the King’s bark.
All looked as though they were
breathing their last breath then,
they could not utter a single whisper.


The snack was replaced at once,
two men carrying instead of one.
They had become a nervous wreck,
They knew not what was to come.


The King cried once more,
“Bring me the veal at once, hear you?”
Men dashed to the kitchen in haste
and brought the meat in platters new.


He dug into the flesh like a glutton
and the family began to feast again.
They had been stunned into silence
by the King and his bellowing.


Seeing the King satisfied now
the servants breathed sighs of reprieve.
“The storm’s down” one whispered
into another’s ear, a voice of relief.


The Queen ordered away the dishes;
The King and his kin had finished.
A last course, however, was left
to be served, the sweet dishes.


Mango cake, blueberry pie and lemon tarts
were brought in gold dishware.
They were finished in a jiffy,
and the table again lay clean and bare.


The King rose first from his seat;
The Queen and children rose, and went.
A meal of royals it had been
and the meal came to a denouement.