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A King's Regret
The flowers fall with no one there to pick,
The emerald boughs with golden birds do trick.
The King hides his face, his pain too deep,
He looks back at tears that do forever seep.
His kingdom's strife, a heavy toll to bear,
His bleeding heart, a burden hard to share.
The flowers lay, forgotten on the ground,
While he must watch his kingdom's beauty drown.
In blood and tears, the story of his reign,
A tale of sorrow, of love and pain.
The emerald boughs, once lush and
bright,
Now lay with flowers, in fading light.
The King does grieve, for what could have been,
For all the beauty, that now is seen.
In every tear, a hope does still remain,
That someday, peace will bless his reign. |
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bough |
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a large branch of a tree |
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