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Rated: E · Poetry · Fantasy · #2195223
A continuation of, The Nightingale.
The Emperor, having had death sit on
his chest, having fallen ill so as not
to be expected to live, astonished
his servants with, “Good morning.”
He was given new energy, a new
will to live by the Nightingale;
She, having chased evil forces
from his bed, having, in the past,
brought tears to his eyes with
beautiful song.  The Emperor, 
now healthy and robust, granted
a second chance at life to hear
the Nightingale once again.
Yet the Emperor’s servants,
Lords-in-Waiting, hangers-on
all wondered why the sudden
turn about, ricocheting from
death to life élan, veering
like a shooting star from 
crash to cosmic light. 
The Emperor’s word law, he
could not say from whence
his recovery came; She, the
Nightingale, requested silence.
But O how hard for him to keep
the promise!  Joy felt beyond all
riches, his heart captive yet
teeming gratitude, a want to share.
Regret still darkened the palace 
walls; he rued the day he banished
the real Nightingale, having bestowed
an honored place to a mechanical
one, a fake from Japan’s Emperor.
In tears that day, the Emperor
assuaged a grieving heart, yet still
found peace and joy, knowing what he
alone was left to know, that nature’s
truth affords the richest bounty,
and that one becomes richer
in humble appreciation.

40 Lines
Writer’s Cramp


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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2195223