~

“My queen, we feared we’d lost you so”
The healer said in joyous speech
“When here the shaman does bestow
these wishes that we do beseech”

“What have you done, how can this be,
my broken heart can not withstand
You silly fools, why can’t you see,
this was my choice by my own hand”

“Your majesty, we know so true
these actions, orders from the king
He returned home in search of you
not knowing what the news would bring”

A frightened glance, her shoulder pure
“My love,” she rushes to his bed
Now weeping every saddened pour
to find her king now lying dead

“He gave his life so live you would
with every ounce of strength he owned
For from his heart he summoned good
his wish, his queen to stay her throne”

“Oh Knight in armor, promised main,
why did you not protect our king
So I may sit upon my throne
and worry not of anything”

“Be gone, I need you here no more”
She wept, her face a glistened streak
then kissed this man she did adore,
when one lone teardrop fell his cheek

It shimmered bright in colours grand
like prisms floating on the sky
She reached and took his weathered hand
then saw a flutter in his eye

A warmth did flow his fingertips,
his eyes then opened with a gleam
He pulled her close and kissed her lips
“I love you so my precious queen”

Her breath escaped from deepened fears
with heartbeat movements quivering
She cried again, though happy tears
“I love you too my wondrous king”

The kingdom sang and cheered in glee,
a celebration soon had grown
For on this day their King and Queen
once more did sit upon the throne

And they lived happily ever after...

The End?




Meanwhile, the knight of angered soul
Beneath his heated breath did say
Of all these years, a banished toll
*Those two, I swear will surely pay…..

Arms are weak and withered,
and the strings won't heed his shaking hands.
Pain's his only feeling, and that can't convey
what his gasping heart hungers to say
About her smile.. about her eyes,..
about her gasping breaths so frail and grey.

The symphony has begun
Playing mellow tunes
Beckoning the arrival of death
At the expense of him.
But his strings won't let him
Change the way the music is going,
His clammy hands trembling,
Shaking,
Breaking.
(He wore his heart on his hands.)
All he can do is watch
And listen
As the music drifts,
Deeper, slower...
Until her heart
Stops.

Arms are weak and withered, holding
cards upon the table. Folding
never was his strong suit anyway.
He waits a while in silence, knowing
her pain is no nearer to slowing.
Growing screams beckon plugs to pull away.
He doesn't know what's left to play,
but his withered fingers seem to know the way.

She listens as the melody starts,
and falters as she closes her eyes.
Arms are withered weary,
as the music slowly dies.

But as the silence comes around,
It revitalizes an old strength.
Calling upon the fundamentals of
An art once forgotten,
But its tremors will now resonate.

Tremors mark his trembling hands,
and the music is April, alive and new.
The monotone flat-line droning on
is in metronome time like when they were young,
and he matches her tempo, like they used to do.
He plays her life, her laugh, her smile...
The music stops, and after a while
the day is through. And he thinks to himself...
*Tonight is over... and there's the dawn...
But it marks the start of a day...
                                                   without you...

My faith in you
is dissipating.
Like boiling water
disappearing into steam.
No, this isn't a dream.
The truth isn't always kind.
Kind of like you.