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