Poems by Margie Fox
THE KING
Oh he could move and he could sing
The only one they called 'The King.'
I followed him from place to place
But he never glanced at my eager face.
I'd stand with others to shout and scream,
To meet and touch him was my dream
With his glitzy clothes and shock of hair,
Giving his all to us down there,
In the audience of his fans I was the only one
With thoughts of love requited
If only we could be united.
One night there came my chance
I slipped away whilst he did dance,
No-one was near his room, so I did hide
Away in a cupboard, my time to bide
And there I stayed until the end of the show
When in he came,
And fell exhausted upon a chair.
He didn't know that I was there,
The sweat was running down his face
His shoulders hunched from his life's pace.
And so I slipped from my hiding place
To stand quietly at his side
My feelings of love I tried to hide.
He stared at me, his eyes were glazed
With horror, he was amazed.
His hand went to a switch which rang a bell
His minders rushed in like bats out of hell.
I boldly placed my book before him
Asked for his autograph.
His minders stood between us,
And they,could only laugh,
At this he took the book and signed it
'With all my love', and his name,
He didn't really love me, it was just a game
And his eyes were cold as he waved me away
I couldn't tell him my feelings
The minders grabbed me, I couldn't stay.
I never saw my love again,
My heart was broken, too much pain,
But I was sad when I heard of his end.
Alone, unhappy, without a friend.
Now I am a woman grown
Happily married, with kids of my own,
But when the house is quiet and I am alone
I put on a video, or perhaps a CD
And listen once more, to just him with me.
Oh how he could dance, move and sing
And I sigh for my lost youth and Elvis, 'The King'.
by Margie Fox