a fool dances on the rim of my hat,
waving his long fingers in shamful mockery,
his painted smile, crooked and compassionate;
he lends me the fine dream i wander.

a humored king, eyes dancing,
is enthroned on a gold dias in my head,
watching the motleyed jester;
the madcap swaying to ring his costume bells.

the charade plays out like a game of cards;
the king's foutune turned and tipped,
spilling out like wine from a glass,
staining the floor with his color.

curved-toe boots splash though majesty's time;
the footprints of an angeless step;
such a dance twisted with riddles,
as the fool treads a king's dreams.

as celebrates an evening, a feast.
a time never passed, whittles the minutes;
for a single moment's light jest,
and a smile to extend a lonely evening.

revere swept away, a fingers breadth of time,
so long... a noble king forgotten,
and my harlequin prince fades away;
though my head weighs with his warm laughter.

what memory keeps, my fool and king;
in my heart: a grin and a bow,
unfolded a story, a moments fine legend.
and i tip my hat to the dream.