This is the second poem of this blog. It has a more "serious" tone than yesterdays post and can be seen in a somewhat "dark" light, though it does tell a bit of a tale. Enjoy!
- James O. Cannon
The Assassin and the King
The Dagger fits in his hand with ease.
The blood to be spilt' shall his masters thirst please.
At even the slightest sound his body shall freeze,
For he moves through the throne room like a breeze.
Though his mind may be weak, the King believes
That his assassin has roots as deep as the trees.
So, as he waits for death, he makes a dinner of bread and cheese.
And half-way through his meal there is a change in the air, so he
flees.
The royal man with eyes like stone drops to his knees.
He tosses his Crown aside and smiles as he sees
His assassin as the man approaches and the dagger he frees,
And the wicked grin as he whispers, "for your life, there shall be
no pleas."
The King returns the smile and points out to the seas
Through the small window that lets in a breeze
And speaks in a booming voice that shakes the trees,
“Your treachery is noted and all of the land sees.”
“All of your,” the King continues after stifling a sneeze,
“All of your treacherous and wicked deeds.”
“With my spilled blood, your master you shall please,”
“But your cause, she will never be free.”
So ends the final of the many great treacheries
And shortly after did the assassin die that was never let be.
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