He’s as silent as a winter morn,
and legendary for his horn.
On a mountain, he was born
with a thorn in his side.
Nibbling kernels of corn,
he saw the world shorn
of its preconceptions and scorned
the forewarned
who ignored the hawthorn
where the firstborn
picked up a gold tricorne.

Never more would the world be as it was
because the winter-born
was named king on this morn.

And no one remained after his long reign.
They all melted away, leaving for gentler reins.

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for Monday Morning Melts #2 hosted by Jade and Rosema. I didn’t have any heart-melting words today while my country is in turmoil.