Purple Warriors
Once upon a time in Fairyland, There were four hundred and sixty three princes And only three princesses Each of them different, Unique, And with a mind of their own. They Were the chosen ones. Chosen to be together For months In salubrious climes. Months passed, Seasons changed. Arguments turned into agreements, Conflicts became friendships. Slowly, Olives, whites and blues turned purple. Not exact but nearing perfection. All good things do end And so did their story. These fairy warriors Metamorphed into kings and queens. It was now time To go separate ways And rule their kingdoms In their own way. They bade a teary adieu With promises of being in touch. Some did, some couldn't. Each one slowly taking control Of their domain, their life. Years passed. Rivers flowed under the bridge of time. The kings and queens grew old. Some became masters Of all that they surveyed. And some, Made a quiet exit.