A/N: I wrote this two years ago, so I'm not sure if it's very good.

The Premonition

Small droplets of dew,

Crystalline drops of delight,

Or the tears of a farmer forgotten,

Shines in their sight.

The mist is dark and heavy,

It creeps o’er the land,

All of the faithful bow,

To the thundering boom of demand.

All of the graceful cease,

Their dance of merry debate,

All of the brave tremble,

As they realize the hour is late.

The figure towers above,

He stares them darkly down,

His iron hand of love,

Clamps upon the one with the crown.

The king is nothing more than a child,

He is too cowardly to stay,

They watch him go down the path,

That will lead him astray.