I remember when the king fell.

I remember being told

of his passing and my world crumbling apart,

no final goodbye, no conclusion

to any conversation that we had

had before, no ultimate

declaration, no absolution

just something that became terminal.

Goodbye my King,

I think of you everyday

however on this unhappy day,

I always endeavour to be the squire

you imagined I would be, a knight

I am not yet worthy, a king

in your place I decline and pass

that responsibility from my father

to my sons; not fit to wield a sword,

a quill is but my suffering weapon

as I pen the stories of your life.

Ian D. Hall 2017