Letter to Julie Andrews

For the Daily Poem

Dear Julie Andrews

I had the chance
(when I was six)
to meet you.
I didn't want to
then.
You were Queen
to Richard Burton's King
and you'd made Arthur cry.

I was backstage after
the third performance
and King Arthur made me a princess--
dubbing me thus--
a princess of Camelot:
I'd told him I wouldn't ever
let anyone forget.
He charged me to be a teller of tales.

You know the rest
of that story:
Ed Sullivan had you all on his show
the following night
and Camelot went on.
My parents wanted me to meet you
but I was lost in the throes
of princessdom and
I could still see tearstains.
You made him cry!

I didn't know about theaters
or acting.
I was six. I didn't know
it was all an act.
To me: it was real.

Time flew by. Mary Poppins
and Maria enthralled.
Your books entranced me
with Flaming Flapdoodles
and Simeon's Gift.

I wrote and became
King Arthur's 'Teller of Tales'
and then more,
a publisher. But looking back
I wish
the princess had wanted
to meet the Queen.

Princess Fyn, Princess of Camelot and Wynwidyn