I whispered behind sunglasses
like a light wind into my beloved's ear,
But who would be King? her smart retort.
My Lord upon on that chair?

I'd give you a golden palace I said,
She whispered your such a ****,
We'd have to build a great stone wall high,
a fort to keep away all sorts

We walked along the promenade,
past the paisley clad natives in the square
traipsing places of the colourful past
where held once saints in despair.

The bouquets of Jasmine, Rosemary in a porcelain vase
The feeling of a lovers taut hand
The fragrance of the past,
The serenade of violins in a merry band.

I whisper again..................
You would still be Queen.... and the response a sigh