I built a throne to hold my heart
Once on a day of ice and cold
I set out to build my home a throne
Dead cold pricked my skin
And reminded me of its breath
I sat upon a polished rock of guilt
But that too wanted me dead
Through more nights and days then I could count
I built the best seat in man
Not gold it was made from, thorns and courage
Told stories of history to keep it intact
Alone late spring, it felt no longer hostile
Hopes and dreams sewn in a seat of roses
It smiled to me from a distance
And brought warmth to my home
My castle of history built on senile stone
Now turned into gardens of beautiful greens
The wind brushed my hair gently
And I felt the warmth of it hold me
And ask me my name.
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