The Fool

FOOL What am I? A cherub without any wings, Dangling on a fish wire for the good company of the King, Gentry in distinguished garb, Throw pennies and watch my stumbling, before their banquet, A source of joy for those pawing at their toy. What am I? I am full of keys with no lock, A man sits on me just with a hat, a suit and an old pair of socks, You can throw me or at least my building blocks, I'm a piano made of rocks. Ello sir, Can I help sir? A penny for a chance sir. Here, let me show you, I can dance. They know me as a friend of the King, Behind the ropes, the carpet, the bright glistening, He stands back to acknowledge and throws a purse into my hands, Pennies scatter by my feet. What am I? That which can be understand but not talk, Speak but not be heard, Writ with chalk or carved in wood, Given by the groom, Or gifted by the lake on a warm afternoon, Declared at the feet of a King on his throne, I am a poem. What am I? He, who advises the King on his robes, Sells the King's wares, Tears a passion to tatters as he declares, Lost in the garden, mumbling and playing the flute, To a hazardous lute. Whose socks and mismatched hat, Who's overlooked, passed by and on whose shoes they did spat. The sun supposedly the source of all light, Yet I am always walking in his shadows like his ghost. I am that which one day might be great. Should his hand bless my shoulder, Before me he displays, all the wonder, Every kind of jewel; diamond, emerald, gold. I am of course ~ The Fool.