Your Highness; but I'm only a pauper.

His majesty beckons me into the hallway.
For what reasons I know not of,
for I am without much value in this place.

Humbly, I walk across the palace guards,
head hung low. Gazing only the expensive rug below
wondering if I had offended The King somehow.

But could it be that He had known?
of this forbidden courtship he will never approve.
Then die I must, or She will not see the sunlight
again.

For our sake, She said.
For She wouldn't care if I ride the greatest stallion,
mounted the shinning amour or even holding
Merlin's sword in my hands.

Because all that matters not.
Those were never of eternity, not of truth-ness
and none of those she would love but
me.

But how could it last my princess?
What if he had known? What if-
it was now?

On my knees I am now.
Cold sweat forming at my palms.
My good lord I said, how may I serve?

You daring servant of no good!
How could you? You're not worthy
of my princess love.
Give her up this instance or suffer the fate worst
than that of death alone.

But but- how could I, your highness?
For I'm only a pauper;
worthy of nothing but rags and rumbles.

Then die should my princess for this shame,
for this love she so daring confess.
And with nothing;
nothing but He who's worthy of only rags and rumbles.