Of Harry and Meghan, a tale I tell,
In Hollywood, their venture not fairing well,
A regal splendor, yet success doth flee,
Their streaming dreams like froth on ale to be.

In heav'nly realm, the market falls from grace,
Three saints with color stained, a losing race,
The S&P, Dow, and Nasdaq weep,
For red o'ershadowed them, a week fast asleep.

In far off Kyiv, a tussle 'mongst allies,
As Ukraine's war with Rus' divides the wise,
The path towards NATO, as stout mead's fume,
Their discord rings, a sour note they do consume.

by Brother Arnulfus

a centaur