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She told the tales, to keep the Sultan at enthralled
Majestic narrations of wondrous places and adventures
Stories of adventure, of magic, and vast treasures found
So that each night the Sultan would want to hear more
As each night fell, the Sultan would summon her within his door
So more of the grand story she could lively bring so visually around
For the Sultan killed his wives, never keeping one for long around
Scheherazade knew when her stories were done, she’d be no more
So her recitals drew from the Sultan a feeling that sent him to the floor
For his heart to her had become rich in adore now was abound
Pierre Richards © 01/17/2013
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How we observe and how we reflect.
The observations and reflections of a traveller in a foreign land.
The facades of a perfect home.
This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.
Dreams, desires, id and ego.