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English/Poetry

It never gets old,

Posted by chavakiran on
 It never gets old, 
The king camping around enemy fort, 
me, taking care of business usual here. 


Every Friday - 
I wait for the rider with news,
Are the gates opened? 
Or the walls fallen? 


A poem from the king, 
Is the sole reason for me,
Not to go mad in this role
Of queen in waiting. 


He talks about everything, 
Except the war. 
The food, mostly stale - 
The weather, mostly dull - 
The tents, mostly gray - 
Yet, it brings out best of me.


For the people, 
I am the queen. 
For the King,
I am the trusted, 
For the palace, 
I am the supreme. 
For me - 
Who am I?