We took pieces of our lives
and built a ladder, rung-by-rung.
We took chords from different songs,
writing the greatest one ever sung.
We planted flowers from the wilderness
and grew gardens fit for kings.
We hung by threads, but tied a knot—
now a symbol fashioned on rings.
We polished tarnished experience,
creating rich sounds from beautiful brass.
We took rubble from fractured endeavors
and built a legacy to last.
I know not much of silver platters,
or castles and the throne-room scene.
But of this I am certain, my darling,
what is a king without a queen?