Spellbound was I, by the charm she had.
Hours and hours, my heart used to play,
She crossed my thoughts, night and day.
I was just 18, an active young lad,
Pursuing my dreams, the journey like mad.
Her lustrous lock of hair drove me nuts,
I couldn't ask her out, didn't have the guts.
I sketched her pictures, with charcoal on my pad,
Pink were her dresses, a good taste she had.
"She won't marry you, you'll end up alone dead,
She's a princess, you're a pauper" that's what people said.
"Be afraid, the king is her dad",
They said to make me more sad.
She saw my sketches, seemed to amuse,
"Your drawing is very nice, very cute muse."
"You are an artist, not so bad,
You made my portrait, I am very glad"
She laughed at her joke, seemingly witty,
I glanced at her, Very very pretty.
She welcomed me home, an idea not so bad,
I was curious enough to meet her dad.
As I said "Sweet my love, I live for thee"
dignified was I, quite impressed was she.
As he entered, I felt snow clad,
My spine chilled cracked, yes, he was Her Dad.
"Hello monsieur, I am honored to meet,
I am here to marry you daughter too sweet."
"What do you earn, I ask you as a dad,
Frankly I am amused, not more but tad"
"Sire I have potential a lot,
I make sketches, live in a yacht"
"I feel you are insane, have gone mad,
coz she's a princess; the king, I am his dad.
How can I allow her to marry you,
she has a lifestyle, you cannot afford to?"