A Thistle of Cirsiums

Her crown worn like a thistle of cirsiums,
Adorn her head of mellifluous honey and caramel cream,
Eyes in wakening,
Lips in rousing red,
Bleeding all over the bed,
Four poster and mahogany red,
Sheets of silver silk, drenched in lover’s milk,
The king in his chamber, astride fair maidens,
She awaits the dawn,
Tentatively still,
As the sun rises in the east,
The raging tides, the sun blinds, the bell tolls,
She breathes her last breath, on the gallows,
Her heart in love with a king.

5 thoughts on “A Thistle of Cirsiums

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