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The Bastards of George

He walked like thunder through the courts of love,

A prince unfit for vows or veils above.

Marriage, a word he wore like a robe too tight,

Family, a tale that fled with morning light.

He smiled, and hearts fell like rain in June,

Each glance, a promise, each word a tune.

He didn’t love, he conquered and moved,

A restless flame that never soothed.

An Edo demon in princely skin,

Dropping seeds like sins soaked in gin.

At every bend, he laid his name,

Then vanished, cloaked in charm and shame.

More bastards bore his crooked crown

Than his father’s house could count down.

A lineage scattered, faces unknown,

Children searching for a name, alone.

And now he sits, grey at the gate,

Counting shadows born of fate.

But some ghosts do not keep score

They just knock and ask for more.