reach into goldenrod skies
autumn wheat hissing, envious!
Tassels of crown hang, lifeless.
Queen of a barren kingdom
where silver suns trek horizons,
never in reach for the looking glass
to swallow, and reflect,
Another sunrise sets
all as the pearl harvest eclipses behind,
the apple of her eye.
Copyright © Alyssa Finley | Year Posted 2009