ABBA...
This time
It was fatigue.
I wondered into your throne room.
I wore a linen tunic,
My fro all over the place.
And there you sat
On your throne
As radiant as ever.
I sat between your feet
And pulled the hem of your robe around me.
Without a word
You reached down and stroked my hair
And I wept
Because there is no touch as kind as yours.
I told you everything
That my tired soul could remember
And I drifted off to sleep.
-G.E. Johnson
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