He is strong, he has his passion.
It burns in his eyes like the fires of bracken on a blistering Summers’ day.
His face is wise, he has his wisdom buried within him like pirates’ gold, a rare treasure.
You can feel the stories behind the solemn expression he wears.
The fighting and the love poured into his life, the trials and the victories. Never enough.
There is always more to do. More to conquer.
He is King.
His presence is such an overpowering thing, you cannot help but be reined in by it.
His energy makes him as tall as the tallest tree and his aura stronger still.
His voice is strong, it carries like that of a true Bard.
His words ring true and he is wisdom personified.
He can be gentle, his touch is so and his words are like that of a father.
He unites so many and is awed by the same.
The King.
Arthur.
He is.
Please Rate This Submission:
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- Recent
Comments - Add a
Comment - Send
Feedback Send private anonymous feedback to the author (click here to post a public comment instead).
There are no recent comments - Click here to add a comment to this poem