Her Heart Was Aflame
She'd sharpened her arrows, desired his name
L'affaire, hush-hush, with the Prince of Tibet
This lady of France, whose heart was aflame
She was, as you've guessed, no regular dame
She drew her bow tight; the Prince she would get
She'd sharpened her arrows, desired his name
His jaw, chiseled stone, a challenge to tame
She dared to dream that she'd join his jet-set
This lady of France, whose heart was aflame
She flew to his palace, its entrance gold-framed
Those sounds in her ear -- Ought she to fret?
She'd sharpened her arrows, desired his name
Alarms screamed all about; this was no game
Comprehending the threat, her skin all a-sweat
This lady of France, whose heart was aflame
Gendarmes forced her inside; her pleas, so lame
L'affaire was now up; she'd placed a bad bet
She'd sharpened her arrows, desired his name
This lady of France, whose heart was aflame
Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2019
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