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Reborn

The day the king died I was born,a cold and windswept winter's day,
the ward in black-band silence mourned, the pious knelt and wept and prayed.
Not destined for a coronette, nor tolling of cathedral bell,
I was christened on a gingham set, with water drawn from garden well. 

Now higher courts have bade me in to seat me high in heaven's realm
and crown me as His kith and kin, a trusted prince beside the helm.
Now clear and clean of tainting sin royal robes enfold my form,
a living well now flows within, through grace and faith I am reborn.


Let the pens flow competition
Jenish Somadas  20/06/20

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