Morning Glory Poem by James Atil

The king enthroned again

to his mighty glory

set with his white woven

castle like territory



silence came wind scream'n

a big bang came suddenly

the ocean of riddles groan

while rush of water runs quickly



Little red spots on the upper skin

heads up to the perfect sky

and taking the wind's grin

Nay, that it may not fly away



Clouds moving up the crown

Its no time to hang by

Everyone is waiting down town

just serve the precious lowly