ThroneA Poem by Middlinga poem. Also a haiku
A throne, Where only,
She alone would sit A lone monarch with a heart of gold. Her locks of silver hair would flow, Broad Spectacles perched on her nose With a saffron stone ring on her finger. Here she had long lingered Come from abroad Bode to create a legacy. A permanent fixture, A monument of a time past A kind figure cast on the furniture. From her seat She would survey The world. She would meet and greet, All those feet who came Bearing gifts. Delicacies or literature, Her thanks so sincere and pure To these she held so dear. Subjects came from a far, The wild geese returning, Some older and some still learning. What they observed Was a kingdom at peace, No grief or strife at least. She herself was an able subject A follower of the flock. A reader of that book of prose. On occasions she was known to Distribute goods of luxury foods She the judge and jury of who was worthy. All stared in amazement At this treasure trove of deluxes This place seemed nothing but a daze. Then one day, After some delay Her chair was bade away. © 2010 MiddlingFeatured Review
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