Wisps on the Wind
A sudden breeze sent a hushed rustle through the deeply green colored grass. For a moment that lasted as long as the wind the blades shimmered back and forth between their pure green and silver tinged sides. He felt as if they were old widows not so subtly chattering on about him behind his back. They abruptly stopped and looked away when he noticed.
After all, he was the King.
Of course, they were right to make the assumptions they were. The gossip they would start wouldn't be far from the truth. The elderly grasses understood why he was out here better than he did. He was alone. All the people he ever loved were dead - most by his actions and one by his own hands.
Unaware that feelings came from his heart he clumsily tried to push the lingering emotions from his head. At the same time his old and no longer nimble fingers were searching through a tuft of grass pushing some blades aside while pausing over others.
When he retreated from the encroaching thoughts of self pity and came to his senses he realized what he was doing and felt embarrassed even though he was the only person there. Angrily he plucked up the closest blade of grass and pressed it to his lips. No more whispers, he thought, no more secrets. He blew as hard as his wizened and war torn lungs let him and this time the grass cried out the truth.
As if on cue another breeze arrived to carry away the tune.