Fit For a Queen
Just look at me,
I am so old,
my paint if peeling,
from being so cold.
If I could talk,
you would know my pain,
and know I am royalty,
with a very special name.
Once I lived,
in a castle on a hill,
until those thieves,
came to steal.
You guessed it right,
they grabbed me up,
and out the door,
along with other stuff.
Then I was sold,
to a circus in town,
and rocked, and rocked,
all the famous clowns.
A nice lady saw me,
and offered some cash,
bought me new clothes,
with a bright red sash.
When she passed,
I was sold again,
then across the ocean,
to a brand new land.
Now here I sit,
in my brand new home,
again, the center of attention,
it has been so long.
Copyright © Christy Hardy | Year Posted 2009
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