THE VIRGIN QUEEN
Thunder roared as all the crippled years of tears
poured down upon her cameo cheeks;
hot tears of blood left salty streaks
the stain remaining still
upon the bosom of her gown;
where beneath, her heart did sound
its beating drum of silent agony.
Alas, until the eyes of innocence
unveiled a mask of tragedy.
Her comely beauty once sought by kings
envied like no other Queens
now belonged to archived dreams
for even as the sun delights the sky
her countenance would not descry
a Mona Lisa's smile;
and sadly, as the jester's quest of ardent guile
tried to turn her lips upright,
so woeful was her mournful trial
his plight did fail to usher in a brief delight.
Ah, Love beguiled;
words of golden threads did finesse
the woman child, Elizabeth.
Only once did Love most true of passion's bliss
unfold its kiss;
until the split tongued asps
retold such poison lies as to scold the loyal trust
she'd placed within her lover's eyes.
From that day hence
she cast her lonely heart to stone;
re-vowed herself the Virgin Queen,
and bled her over-numbered years toward peace
upon her granite Throne.