The Prince Lost his Crown

We would build castles together
against the mango tree trunk
and pity them as the leaves pelted raindrops.
He looked better than a prince,
although the kids in the neighborhood
dragged me on a chariot
with their childish cacophonic clamor.

He had started growing his beard,
his hair already tied with a rubber band,
heading to ruin his life…

I didn’t know then
why I couldn’t spend my holidays with him.

He fathered a lot of children
that were not his own,
bailed out countless times…

I visited my grandmother’s house
that stands in ruins,
the chariot was devoured by termites
the mango tree, of course, is cut down
by the landlord.

I was hoping I would meet my childhood friend,
and sure enough, he appears before me.

“William” is the only word I can say.

It’s over 35 years
and he hasn’t grown to be the king I thought he would.