Death Of The Queen (Monotetra) Poem by Terry Hoffman

The King lies sleeping on his bed,
amidst his guards with spears of red.
His vizier leaned o're him and said,
'The Queen is dead! The Queen is dead! '

Arising from his pleasant sleep,
the King woke up and tried to keep
from jumping up with a great leap,
'A price too steep! A price too steep! '

'I loved her more than anything.
How could the dawn this sadness bring?
I loved the way she used to sing.
There's no more spring! There's no more spring! '