Macron’s Bride

She once taught him; he sat in class

A boy with charm, it came to pass

He looked at her, and fell for her;

She was too old for him to stir.

He chased her with roses and words,

His youth a chirping morning bird.

For every look he tried to steal,

She gave him one of measured steel.

The world looked on, it laughed and sighed,

Swept by surprise, by Macron’s bride.

Unfazed by what they thought of it,

The queen loved as she saw it fit.

And then, one day, in Vietnam,

He went too far and got her palm.

With no flinching and no delay,

Her tightened fist found its own way.

A gentle slap, though loud and clear-

Respect the lady standing near.

For though the President may abide,

The power lies in Macron’s bride.

Reviews

[Ms claws]

Hi DIVYA, here to do a return review and landed on the first poem about an earthquake but no room for a review! Since you just now did a review on my writing and did not mention an earthquake, just thanked the author for the heads up on Pay No Mind To The Kid Behind The Curtain, I take it all is well. We writers have very vivid imaginations and your Macron’s Bride is a wonderful example! I love the rhyming! Take care!

[DIVYA]

All is okay Eternity. I'm just trying to get my goddam friend to speak. He's gone missing. ;)
I found your poetry today and will look forward to reading more. Thank you!