Beautiful Slivers of Granite

Far too many gloves were in the pool
That didn’t bode well for the season ahead
So many of the white robes were plying their trade

Often, in the chill of late afternoon, they would come to the pool
Wasting time, flicking chunks of granite into the waters, making wishes
She often wondered why they did that
This was the upper crust
Certainly it was their right to flick the granite

And she was the judge of them, every last one
So when the pleasant interlude in the courtyard was over
She would resume her place on the highest mound in the room
Sending two or three of the nobles to their dooms

But then, in a month’s time, her decisions would be judged
And she might share a grave with them
Or not

Survive

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s