A timid King

The script was given in time
It's too heavy and really a challenge.
He was chosen as the King.
He cried, and he wants to tell the Playwright
“Give me a small part in your massive drama,
As I am a born pauper.
The crown isn't fit for my head
And I am scared of the sword.
The rough shining dress tingles my soul
And I shall feint on the stage
When the curtain rises.”
But the thoroughbred horse neighs
And refuses any other King to ride on its saddle.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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