For the children

The title is cast and a princess I become,
The raging multitudes bask in the harsh, glorious Sun.
I'm typically pickled by the here and now of now,
Sometimes wafting into memory of things in the past.
The little children hidden, smile their blithe lips curved,
And the heart that is becoming is now brimming with love.
So much to wish the morrow.
So much for the horse's gallop,
So much to bear this injury,
As the mare does me wallop.
So much for grazing grass,
So much for wild fantasia,
The guru summons allegiance,
The chella just sits vella.