He watched the angry sea waters lash at him,
He felt the grains of sand seep in and out of his feet,
And felt the thrill like a child
From the corner of his eye,
When he noticed his Slave standing close by,
His face tensed and eyebrows knitted tight,
With a grim face, he commanded, "Stop Mighty Sea",
The waters came roaring back,
In revolt, reminding the lost king of his loss...
He fell on his knees,
And his body crooked,
He weeped a little,
And calmed his pain he thought;
The loss was draining him,
He was no king anymore,
But a king is a king always he thought,
Then what is he now,
Without the masses of followers,
With just one slave left,
He must be king to her he thought,
Until the pain kills him anyways;
He roared like a threatened lion,
At the only slave who had followed him to his grave,
She lowered down and bowed to him,
Just like it were the palace grounds,
His alter ego felt obliged,
But he kept his king face stern,
A king must always be a king he thought,
The lie was doing him no good;
He then said to her, "I have no money left you know, why did you follow into this doom?"
He looked at her for the first time so close,
She had a young pretty face,
Harsh with the sun,
Tired with the labour,
Bruised by the torture,
In the moon light, it glowed a little,
And it carried what grace might be ashamed to admit its worth,
She smiled a little and bowed half down,
And from an empty stomach,
She said, "You are my king, I have known nothing more"
He smiled inside,
Many more times than he had ever on the throne,
He looked at the water and thought to himself,
This will be journey,
Sometime to go around my Kingdom,
With a queen worth having;
He walked to her,
So close, he thought she would flinch,
She didn’t,
He looked at her eyes and lost some moments count,
He embraced her tight,
The king got lost somewhere in between,
He never needed it again;
