One year from the day
In the sweltering heat of Spring
Sprang forth the violets writ'
By a fatherly hand in blood and ink

The castle stood like a grey giant
Behind the light blue of the skies cream.
A forgotten soul hocked their wears
As a king wept hearing of her daughters schemes.

She walked through the violets, her hair
In a bun, and her hands by her side.
The sun wailed its rays down on her,
Not feeling any urge to run and hide.

"You've ruined me!" the king screamed,
"Like a ball of yarn, you've undone me!"
His face was ruby red as sweat poured
From every pore of his shaking misery.

"Father," the girl consoled, "My love has no limits.
I am not a bird, so the sky is not my cage.
Or am I a fish, where the ocean has its walls.
She smiled at the sky, seeing natures stage.

The kings servant, a crooked piece of meat,
With gold around his neck and silk around his feet,
Scampered up beside the king like a toad and whispered,
"Dear King," he said, "Let me have a little speak."

Startled, the king kicked up his robes
And slapped him hard for acting so.
The bloodline was thick with violence,
So any family member was up for a row.

"Come over here pony!" beckoned the king to his stead,
"I've got something that I need of you."
The servant handed the horse to the high king
Pondering in the back of his bent mind if he should sing...

The king burst forth from the stable
And left his daughter staring at the days sky
The servant, trailing on the kings tail with a mule,
Was slowly turning the truth into a lie.