Queen Tamar
She had a sword
To cut of the heads
Of subjects not fitting
She has a heart
That lies upon a cold stone
Torn, withered
A knight from afar
On horseback did ride
Passing by the tombstone
He glanced, the wind at his back
He slowed, for no reason
Other than chance
He unmounted and strolled over
To this old stone of long ago
And felt the beating heart
Of the past
Copyright © Arthur Vaso | Year Posted 2013
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