Giggling in the trees,

darling, what do you see

in me?

Is the Sun 

shining bright

on the crown

of a king

on the day he left

a kingdom 

and his queen?

Is the wind

blowing wild

on a face

of wrinkled sins?

And the sand?

Reflections?

And Illusions?

Do they drip

like tears

of my eyes

on the day

you left the throne?

And since, long you’re gone, gone, gone.

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