Something Beautiful

After I’m gone build a statue of me.
Keep it in front of my big golden tomb.
And inscribe on it “he was a legend!”.

For me, write poems so everyone would see
My sweetness and danger like a bee’s comb.
The numerous wars I fought without end.

Tell them how in my presence demons flee.
And how I had saved children from death’s womb.
How the weak and needy I hand defend.

In my reign no one was stung by a bee.
And life was more safe than The Oval Room.
My death, the people begged God to extend.

When I’m gone, write me something beautiful.
Tell the world that for her, I died a fool.

Younglan.