A Lowly Peasant Poem by Eli J Tod

She
But a lowly commoner
Who revels under
His fickle gaze
A peasant
With an angel face
Who relishes in
His fleeting favor.
His castle, his domain
The air around him shimmers
Eager to be at his fingertips.
When he is charming
The sun lingers
To see his face-
Oh, fiend
Jealous creature
That creeps under his skin
That boils the rage
Infectious.
Vile words that cause
Angles to weep
Bitter taste
The world is cloaked in grey.
Is the goddess to be pitied?
She fell from grace
With ease and good promise
No thought
Of what was to come
From a sunbeam staircase
To peasantry
Diapers and dishes.
Is she to be pitied?
She who should
By right of beauty
If nothing else
Steal Athena’s will
And place herself as
His Queen.
Is she forever condemned
To be his shadow?