The Queen On Emerging From Her Refuge
She’d dwelt within a palace, and outside
it, geese and brilliant peacocks used to strut
inside a fragrant garden. As a bride,
she’d said her vows beside the roses, but
today no scent of blooms perfumes the air.
The terrace sculptures, rubble now, are strewn
across the floor. She gazes eastward where
the mangos’ branches danced beneath the moon
when zephyrs softly blew. Like poison, now
a vapor comes, beginning to enwreathe
her husband’s realm. There is a smell so foul
her heart wells up with dread; she cannot breathe.
As ashes drift around, she hangs her head
with certainty her one beloved is dead.
Written by Andrea Dietrich Oct. 11, 2014
for the Top Gun Poetry - Structured forms - Iambic verse III of Giorgio A. V.
Form: Iambic Pentameter in an English Sonnet
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
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