Last month the Royal Family visited my small town

As I was unimportant I did not meet them

And spent the day in my perfumed bath

When the splendour had subsided

I visited the beach

How fragrant I was

I picked up a pebble

And awoke it from its slumbers

It began to speak to me in not much more than a whisper

The King had visited the beach

And had trodden on the pebble quite blindly

Followed by the Queen and the young Prince

I enquired of objections

But there were none

As the King was dying

The Queen although not of mature years

Was also affected by the deadly condition

Which would kill her in three summers

The modest prince had caressed the pebble

When eyes were averted and had promised it wealth

As he wanted to exchange roles for just a year and a day

No regal dust stays on the beach for very long

As it is distributed quite soon by the sea breezes

But pebbles are immortal and witness the years

Until they too are worn down by the driven waves

And become the sand on the royal beach

Which is gathered in with much respect by the loyal and gentle sea