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Rated: E · Poetry · Fantasy · #2181874
When Arthur claims the throne.
Lurking in a kingdom.
Trying to stay unseen,
A trembling troll wonders behind the scene.
Searching for a treasure,
On the day a baby is born.

Chorus
Golden in the sun, silver in the moon.
The willow will grow soon.
The power rushing through its roots,
Gives life to the owl’s hoot.
Eighteen moons away.

Sounds from the horn.
Cheers and cries,
Ripple across the skies.
Forming a plan,
The troll ran.

Chorus

Eighteen moons pass,
Leaving age in the grass.
The baby is now a man,
And the troll no longer ran.
What was the trolls plan?

Chorus

A sword and a stone,
Conjured for the throne.
The troll planted clues,
For the new king to choose.
The time is near with a settling fear.

Chorus

The new king arrives, seeing others strive.
Parting the crowd, with his handsome brow,
He steps to the stone and claims his throne.
A new king has been named.
Soon people will want him to be maimed.

Chorus

Arthur now stands tall
In front of us all.
The troll remains unseen behind the scene.
His final deed is done,
Now he must run.

Chorus
© Copyright 2019 Emilee Anne (emileeanne_28 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2181874