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Hi, I write poems for adults, not usually for children, but have written this and wonder what age group it may fit. I think 8-13. Anyone got any willing child guinea pigs they might try reading it to if you think it's appropriate? Any feedback much welcomed. I know the ladies of Minimins contain many Mums...
Princess Wag
She was born wearing hair extensions,
and her first words were “Get me some fake tan”,
so her parents called her “Princess”
and told her she’d marry a footballing man.
They said that she was special
and deserved much better things
like Jimmy Choos and Fendi Bags
and a Chihuahua with genetically modified wings
She didn’t play in the sandpit,
she was scared of breaking a nail,
and if her bibs got dirty or her rattle didn’t match,
she would prettily cry and wail.
She always wore a tiara
and knew she’d get married on a throne,
with her photo in “Hello! I’m Brilliant!” magazine
and diamonds on her phone.
She secretly really loved horses,
but would never go for a ride
cos she didn’t want freckles, or messy hair
to stop her becoming a soccer star’s bride.
She didn’t bother doing sums
or being interesting when she spoke
she didn’t want wrinkles from frowning
or laughing at a joke.
Her Mum scanned the football league tables,
and collected albums full of men on stickers
and lists of possible florists,
five star reception venues and Vicars.
At eighteen she was ready,
to put the plan into place
but while she was scanning a club for a man with a club
she tripped and fell on her face
A man with kind eyes helped her up
and said “I’m Andy, are you alright?”
She said “You’re not a footie player are you?
Then get out of my sight”.
So Andy, who was actually a plumber,
and funny and thoughtful and fit,
slunk off like a dog that had been smacked on the nose
but kept an eye on her for a bit.
He saw Kyle from Bigtime FC walk in
and everyone gasp in surprise
and twenty seven people offer to buy him a drink,
and him and Princess locking eyes.
Everything seemed to go fuzzy
and pink smoke swirled at their feet
as they walked towards each other in slow motion
and Kyle said “Babe, you’re right up my street”.
He didn’t ask her about herself that night
just talked about his last twelve winning goals
and she stifled a yawn as she looked at his pecs
and started thinking about fields full of foals.
He scrolled past lots of girls names
to put hers into his phone,
and she only let him give her a peck on the cheek
when he dropped her off back home.
Her Mum and Dad were thrilled,
they’d prepared her for this since birth,
they went and bought lifetime tickets for Bigtime FC
and covered their lawn in astro turf.
Kyle would nip round after training
and sit and play on the X Box
and get her to launder his shirt
and iron his soccer socks.
Sometimes photographers would follow them
when they recognised Princess and Kyle,
though he was too cool and she was too Botoxed
to give in to their shouts for a smile.
Eventually one day in the club where they met
he said “Babe will you marry me please?”
he didn’t bend down cos his joints were quite dodgy
and he didn’t want to strain his knees.
A snapper leapt out of the toilets
and handed them a contract to sign,
then a solicitor popped out of the cloakroom
and said “Sign your pre nup on this dotted line”
Princess said to Kyle that she wanted
to come down the aisle on a horse
but he said if she did something so stupid,
they’d be starting their marriage with divorce.
So the sun shone bright and the flashbulbs popped
on their happy day,
though Kyle’s manager whisked him off at the reception
and said “Sorry love, we need him to play”.
She spent her days at the mall
while he spent all his time with the team
and they were like goals at opposite ends of the pitch
until she had a revealing dream.
Kyle was wearing his numbered shirt
and a pair of underpants on his head,
he was kissing a woman who looked just like Princess
and laughing at everything that she said.
Princess shook him awake
and asked if her dream was true,
and he said “Babe, you are my wife,
but get real, it’s what footballers are supposed to do”
She shredded their wedding photos
and clutched her Chihuahua and wailed
and didn’t know how to tell her parents
that her fairytale footie marriage had failed.
She stopped going to the mall and the salon,
and even a manicure didn’t make her want to wake up
but Kyle didn’t notice anything was amiss
just said “Hey babe, what’s with the Vampire make up?”
Her Mum found out from her Facebook,
and said she would never forgive her,
that same day her washer broke down,
water flowed like her tears in a river,
So she had to call out a plumber
and did a double take when she answered the door,
a man with kind eyes and a sprocket
she could have sworn she had met before.
His heart started beating faster
he had never forgotten the day he picked up Princess,
but he could see that both she and her washer
were drowning in their distress.
He banged and tweaked and wrenched
until the leaking stopped
then made Princess a cup of tea,
had a dust round, polished and mopped.
He offered to come round again,
to check on the washing machine
and he made her a cuppa and chatted
and did another little clean
and gradually when her Botox wore off
she’d find herself laughing at his jokes
and realising there might be more to life
than football booting blokes
Andy took her on a mystery trip
which turned out to be a pony trek,
and she didn’t mind her Manolos getting muddy
or that he looked a bit like Shrek.
Kyle came in one day from training
said he was transferring to AC Milan
and Princess said she was transferring too
she’d found a better man.
But she said she wasn’t going to date him,
until they’d got their divorce
and she found herself a job at a stables
and bought herself a horse.
Andy kept in touch by text but understood
that she needed time on her own
told her his love for her was an ever flowing tap
and he’d always be at the end of the phone.
She had months to think, mucking out the stables
and realised she’d missed out on real life
by thinking her only goal could be
becoming a footballers wife
She smelled the fresh air in the meadows
fed her horse, Henry, oats in his nosebag
and was glad that she had discovered
there was more to her than being a WAG
She knew she didn’t need a man now,
but wanted one who could make her life better,
by sharing her dreams and laughs and Maltesers,
so she wrote Andy the plumber a letter.
Then she delivered it direct to his doorstep
on the back of her big white horse
he said “Princess have you come to rescue me?”
She said “Andy, the Plumber of course-
-Not! You’re perfectly capable of looking after yourself,
and now I know so am I,
but I think we’d rub along pretty well together,
How about we give it a try?”
Andy said” Princess, you were out of my league”
She said “No, You were out of mine,
you are a kind eyed gentleman
and all I did was wax and whine”
Eventually they announced their marriage
in an issue of “Toilet Technician’s News”
and exchanged rings made from an old lavatory chain,
though Princess wore some pink Jimmy Choos
She could teach any child to ride,
and Andy could fix any pipe,
they sometimes went off to do their own thing
but kept in touch by Skype.
Their days were filled with talking,
sharing meals and walks and laughter,
and Princess and the plumber
lived tappily ever after.
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