A queen's quest for Ligure
rubbed off her feminine figure,
her pages of pure pericope
was marred with daring dope.
The fallen trees, tempting, trivial;
dull cloud at a clear quadrivial,
not a dream yet wierd and
made a royal race illogical.
Unbelievable, the skies told her
an empty reservior, her sour
@26th July, 2013