I know you'll come

                                             On way to Caen from Paris- year 2010

The rain washed flowers
Lie on roads,
Withered charm
And individual scores;

Some of the beauties
Wait their turn,
For a chariot to ride
That could never arrive;

The fights have stopped
And the jungles cleared,
The sounds are dull
Those, once a big roar;

I am the king
And would stay so,
Thy kingdom can leave
Because you’ll come, I know.