For François

 
Spun and pulled sugar
your gentle breath, you blew
hidden, within your hands, a vase grew.
And more your offerings of glacieristic glaze,
unto King Louis’ wonder, your efforts, they do amaze.
Great steward of your master, Prince De Conde
their deeds…
unfold from cards they did play.
Forfeited integrity,
lack of loyalty,
now for the absurdity.
Written antidotes, the absence of fish,
go a head François make your wish,
April the day of twenty four,
could you not linger any more?
Your detail to perfection,
overstated  your reaction,
you dared by taking the fullness of the blade,
a victim betrayed.
To pierce between your soul and heart
I wept, as your spirit took its part .
For here, I write and voice…
opinion, by choice.
Was not a sword that tempered your demise,
It was the beguile, contempt, the surprise.
Now what on this earth could parallel
the forgotten talents of  Monsieur Vatel.