SEEDS OF GROWTH by Pam

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,

pasted white

and bled her over-numbered years toward peace

upon her granite Throne.