A king lays at rest
Dressed in the raiment
Of honor that preceded him.
From what malfeasance did he die?

Ah! For not how did he die,
But how did he live?

He lived with the sparkle
Of her smile in his eye,
And the hope of her
Kiss like sugar on his lips.

He lived with hope,
He touched the sky
With her thoughts and
Watched her dance with the maidens.

She twirled wild and free with
A fever, he laughed,
And he loved her.

This was what made him king.

by Tsani Jones

Other poems of JONES (126)

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