A poem for Hare Máxima

Hihoi high honored audience, there I was again. I'm in the middle of a pile of crumpled A4's and I've already had enough peppernuts to keep a small African country going for a month, but I can't get out... As I'm sure you've seen, last week I received a last-minute invitation to the Sinterklaas party at the hands of King Willem-Alexander and the Oranges. That's a little stressful, I can tell you.

Normally I'm not that shy, you should know that, but now I notice that doubt creeps up on me. I mean, it's all fun and nice as long as you're having a casual drink with the Orangemen every now and then, or having a chat with them over a good glass of chablis, but this is different...

And then we drew Máxima's lottery ticket. I thought I'd like that for a while: normally the prose flows so abundantly out of my pen, but now I hesitate anyway. I mean, what kind of poem do you write for a woman like that? Not too critical, but not completely superficial it seems to me. Also mainly trying to avoid political subjects, because that can become uncomfortable. In the end, I thought it would be smart to just stick to my basics. You guessed it: it's become a poem with a penchant for lingerie.

I'm so nervous... What would she think? I think it would be good to present it to you, as kind of a royal taster, I'll say. If you'll just give me your unsalted opinion - I'd better have it... It's coming!

Okay, well, that's from my heart. It's really comforting to share it with you guys. Honestly, isn't it too slimy? Not too naughty? Not too suggestive? Should be, legally at least. Well, I like it that way. I've got more to do. What's that, then? Well, let me answer that question by asking a question in return: How on earth do you put together a replica of Her Majesty's buttocks with two rolls of adhesive tape, eight used toilet rolls and half a jar of glitter paint?!!!

...Maybe just walk into the neighborhood for some professional advice...

With stressed greetings from Saint Sebastian!