A Sentiment For The Queen

I find that I

despair in certain


cut scene, curtains!

I may draw

only what I see

because real

differs to me.

I’m peculiar

but I hate not;

I won’t forget

eyes I sought.

The other day

and last night,

now the bough

it breaks not.

Told I did her

truth in a note.

That her eyes

keep me afloat.

That when in

hell I’ll be,

that her eyes

will I think.

To stave torment

brought in hours.

In twisted ivy in

burning flowers.

All despair so

sweetly set adrift.

Every thought in

fog she does lift.

The world is

forlorn and lost.

She appeared

amid it to cross.

Deceptors haunt

her precious glow.

All I want is her

respected to grow.

They speak ill

tawdry jives;

her profession

is in their hive.

I would hope

as days roll by

they treat her as

queen in the sky.

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