In the spring of the year

King David has chosen to stay home;

and who could blame him.

He has too long been a man of war,

sleeping rough with his men, out in the hills;

others could fight this battle.

His trusted general would do the job.

There are some tasks, however,

that he will do himself.

Like the woman, beautiful in her nakedness,

recklessly taking her bath on the roof.

He made his enquiries, discovered her name

and issued the royal invitation.

She was not likely to refuse.

 

The bed was soft,

the woman, softer.

 

He told his soul that he had chosen love over war;

and had almost convinced himself that it was a righteous choice

when her inconvenient message came.

Proving more loyal than his monarch,

the cuckolded husband frustrates the attempted cover-up;

receiving, as his reward, the honour of a hero’s death.

It is all about power.

 

David had too long been a man of war,

sleeping rough with his men, out in the hills.

It was in the spring of the year.

 

Ken Rookes. Posting from the middle of the continent, from the small town of Ti Tree, and without my usual equipment. Things don’t appear quite as I intend. Sorry

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