My Square Lair
Hidden in my castle, is my lair
It is small room, I never share
A secret door, behind my chair
Opens to my private square
A cube of stone, completely bare
Six sides in all, naught but for air
Candle in hand; I sit and stare
At the walls, in my perfect square
Able to concentrate, fully aware
Not even a draft, making a flare
Escaping thoughts, I wait to snare
As I sit and think, in my square
If I am troubled when in there
I take a moment to prepare
By reciting a humble little prayer
Between God and me and square
I endeavor to be wise and fair
For my subjects, I really care
My goal, to ease their despair
Inspiration come; to my square
© Copyright 2016 attanasio. All rights reserved.
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