Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2013
Wooley legs elevated
his remote at hand,
servants at beckon call.
A kingly schmuck
with a tall glass to fill.
His platter shall not
be delayed.
A royal bloodline
will earn one
not a single amenity,
for we are all
just serfs
in his court.
Sarah Moseley
Written by
Sarah Moseley
889
   Andrew Name
Please log in to view and add comments on poems