Letters to Someone

When we finally meet, will I know it? Will my heart be too faded to leap loudly enough for me to shiver from my distant stare?

The Weary Wanderer

In the dwindling days of the court, the King withdrew from his few advisors and kept to himself. Often times the jester would find him staring out across the sea, scanning the horizon for a sunset silhouette of sails. Without fail the King, eyes never leaving the fading light, asked the jester to tell him a tale, and the two would stand side by side as the sun abandoned the sky.