Going through some old sermons from Anglican days I came across this poem I wrote in 1984, and had forgotten about. What do you think?
I saw a king presiding on his throne;
his robes were fine, his features kind, but stern.
He saw envoys, ambassadors and men
with urgent messages who rushed in.
He had advisors with portfolios,
oily men concerned with profit and loss.
Then I saw, standing at the king’s right hand,
a small page in white and red, a boy of ten.
He held a silver tray and stood in place;
His face held great quietness and peace.
He waited, never bored, until the king called
The he lifted his eyes, smiled and said, “My Lord?”