I
A generation of kings
assumed their role
promoted past their proper measure
barely equipped to
encourage fresh minds
and never expected
to develop young hearts
as they could not offer to others
what had never been shown to them.
They ruled
not with great edicts or fanfare
but by silent force of sheer presence
and a stern look through piercing eyes
that confirmed your fall from grace
into the valley of their disappointments
as only on rare occasions
might they produce
a slight nod and quick grin
acknowledging achievement
in someone performing
exactly as expected.
II
Each king took a queen
who did her best
to offer solace and comfort
to those who roamed the castle halls
yet all the while suffering in silence
as days slowed to a crawl
to steal her beauty in a place
where romance had left
without saying good-bye
and the promise of
happy ever after
was replaced by a life
of hidden secrets.
III
Those who lived
under the king’s rule
would eventually leave the castle
and spend many years on crusades
to experience
the joyous victories
of love and birth
and the sadness of death
that would fire their mettle
and return them home
fully formed
carrying offerings
of tribute to his legacy
that they might find a new place
in the heart of the king.
Yet those who returned
found that after many years
behind walls of stone
their king had lost his taste for battle
and could smile more easily now
in the presence of his growing dynasty
and his impending fate
while his heart would simply rejoice
in the joy of his blessings.
IV
And so his loyal subjects
made silent vows
to carry the legacy of their king forward
by emulating the strength of his character
while being twice the opposite
of the way he once ruled
and when asked
after years of his harsh failings
why their loyalty never waned
they would simply reply
“He was my king.”
Dedicated to fathers and mothers of eras past.
Ken Owen August 2021
Van Niddy Press
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