King Rafa

Waiting for the King
in rich embroidered cotton,
the sun begins to dim
to protect the royal skin;

the birds are humming
(just a quiet throaty thrill)
and wild roses fling
their perfect petal rings
to line the walkway in -

He is come!


- Shaista, 2011
Naturally the poem was done, when the King had come :) Later, when the Little Imperious Figure was ensconced in his temporary English kingdom, I learned that 'the King' is his universal nickname. At the moment though, he is, rather crossly, having to share the centre of the universe with his namesake, Rafael Nadal, the other Rafa... who looks as though he is about to be crowned again...

I have discovered I have a wealth of silly songs up my sleeve, mostly nonsense, that conversations do not require language necessarily, and that my brother and sister are the most charming parents in the world..

Biased? Moi??