“Oh how I’ve missed you!” Poepi exclaimed,
And hugged and kissed and hugged again,
And to her shock, and pure delight,
Doubting both, the eyes of her sight,
Blink and the painter appeared as a boon,
Beneath a full blown midday moon.
“We came ahead” the painter said,
“And told the Queen the Giant is dead!
Right away she quick insisted,
That your castle, be resurrected!”
The Queen then took them through the site,
Past castle towers, and stables, and right,
Up to see the palace proper,
Past armory rooms, and water hoppers.
The statues, fountains and the gardens,
Were planted while the cast stones hardened,
And lifted up into their places,
Above new grass in open spaces.
“Come look at this!” the painter said,
Pulling on Poepi to forge ahead,
Straight down a hall, fresh built, and hewn,
Into an oblong, messy room.
“This is my studio!” the little man shouted,
Showing his paints, he happily touted,
Piles of canvas, and easels, and brushes,
And stencils, and rulers, and powder crushes.
The walls held works she’d seen before,
Cleaned pristine, for all to adore,
Including the one of her family,
Which hung alone for all to see.
Poepi approached it, and straightened its crook,
Stepping back slow, with a sharply pained look,
Taking a moment to reconsider,
How things had changed, for her, and her sister.
But then the painter tugged on her sleeve,
“Come, come, my dear! Look at these! Look at these!”
He pointed much farther across the room,
Where fresh painted pictures depicted the doom,
Of giant’s sunk island, and battles and scores,
Of Poepi’s adventures that happened before.
“Some of these scenes, are hard to bear,”
The painter acknowledged, speaking with care,
"But as your grand painter, it falls upon me,
To record true, all our history!”
And with those words he took a brush,
Starting his work, in a passionate rush.
The Queen and Poepi kissed him goodbye,
And leaving the studio, departed outside,
Mounting their horses and taking the road,
Toward the village, and peoples abodes.
And when, the townsfolk, saw Poepilandia,
They bowed, and bent, and honored her, grandia.
“They know it was you” said the Faerie Queen,
“Who broke down the giant and freed them from mean,
Srellik and Humrec and Reywal soldiers,
And sank the giant’s Island boulder.
This is how subjects greet their new queen,
After long going, unknown, and unseen,
And it will not be long, I think,
Before they clean, of the Giant’s stink.”
“They see me as Queen?” Poepilandia said,
Mouth hanging open, like an old barn shed,
She remembered now, how they jeered and glared,
And thought there was a lesson there.
Then Poepi took the Queen, and kissed her,
And hugged her again, and said how she’d missed her.
“I thought…Oh, I thought… this was all for you?
With the Giant gone, there is much you could do,
As Islegrove’s illustrious queen,
Restoring its lands, to what they have been!”
But the Queen just stood still, and shook her head,
Her brow exhausted, her glossed eyes red.
“My dearest Poepi, be not the fool!
You were always meant to rule!
This is your task, now, not mine,
And I think, you’ll suit it fine.
What you feel, emotions dower,
Are the blooms, of wisdom’s flower.
I am so proud that one so dear,
Could grow so much, within two years!
As for myself, I have never been,
Wanting more than I have seen.
I’ve never sought expansion power,
Or wanted more than springtime showers,
To freshen my forested mountain lands,
And pixie, elf and faerie hands.
No, this is not the place for me,
I have another destiny.
So I’ll return to where I love,
Where trees grow tall, and tower above,
The living creatures, at rest and play,
Living their lives from day to day.
I’ll also rebuild your cottage home,
Where near my elves and pixies roam.
And every fall so shall it be,
That you may come and visit me.
For I wish nothing else to do,
But go back home and see life through.
You know as well as I, it’s true,
Such yet is not the life for you!”
Poepi thought, and thunk and stewed,
And deep inside her, knew it too.
This was her place, for best or worst,
According of course, to the rule of the first.
And so she smiled, half-happily,
And with the Queen, quick there agreed.
Not long after finishing the castle,
From lofty spire to flying tassels,
The Queen departed on her own,
The wind behind her gently blown,
With little doubt, or fear, or shrink,
To the forest, with pixies and Blink,
Who still loved Poepi, without disdain,
But never really quite the same.
Poepi stayed on at the castle,
Becoming the Queen, of whistle and bangle.
She kept those hid and stowed away,
Should need arise another day,
In fights for rights, or self reliance,
Against the creeping tyranny of giants.
She governed with justice, ever after,
Loving herself and living for laughter,
And never again, left her people dour,
Having learned the rule of power.