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Thursday, 13 October 2011
I bet he walks two steps behind his queen.
Self-effacing little king,
he holds the sceptre of his power
and majesty behind his back -
not to be seen.
Bashful little thing!
He stands upon The Daily Rag,
the news of common man, consumer man,
but hasn't opened it.
Such outward things dwell not in his desires,
his mind is on some astral plane.
His ermine trim is faux, of course;
he's greener than the bees.
He sings from angel hymn sheets -
but when they sing, he leaves.
His morning coffee has been served.
He's turned his back on it,
prefers the nectar of the gods -
and walks two steps in front of them,
insisting on his right. But here, his queen
of six feet seven, blocks out all his light.
My thanks to Magpie Tales for the image/prompt.