Arthur Adrift
Misty morning peeled away. The great King Arthur's body drifted on the lake of Avalon. His hands placed lovingly at his sides and a crimson cape surrounding his pale blond form, the image of a golden dragon in the fabric. He drifted on placid water until the sun drew higher. Then the water grew less still. The small boat, so lovingly laid, swayed, rocking as waves slapped against the sides.
The 'Once and Future King" drifted in silence. He drifted in time. As the world woke up and small birds twittered, he was no longer in motion, just emptiness. The bravery, the cockiness, tears he'd shed for his people, his father, and his friends, his love for his Gwenevere and her wisdom perpetually dissolved in the morning air.
And his servant on the shore, distraught and trembling. Eyes fixed and fearful on nature itself, completing its inevitable ways.