What pride she has
She holds close to her crystal chest.
Under a veil of starlight
She gives shame another name and seeks to ignore it.
On a cold autumn morn
With summer singing in the leaves
She stands up for
Her beloveds and
Raises her chin to the moon.
What venom there is in eyes
She gathers in her cup.
When all is done and
Her sword arm wearies
She gives in to what she cannot hide and
Turns to the child, instigator, beside her
And spanks her for her actions.
A queen’s beauty is deceptive
Her faces warp between kind and cruel and
The line between them is too thin to see.
Despite her willingness to disregard her heart
She lures you back to her bosom
For the deed she will
Do again in the future.
Kings call these women queens
Too many children call them mothers.
Photo credit: unknown
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