Wicked Queen, Her Darkness Hidden Behind Her Veil

Wicked Queen, Her Darkness Hidden Behind Her Veil Vacancy of high upper air, rarified ghosted hearts too. Of frosted heathens in place, none are wearing mad hatter shoes. Yet in her beauty she held this fast, mirror never lies And now her worn-out lover has died, she just barely cries Winter and her wanting a far much warmer climate here She sparks her fire, wondering why firemen wear all that gear Often waking, she wonders, does savage death really hurt But policeman catches her eye, over she goes to flirt. Vacancy of high upper air, rarified ghosted hearts too. Of frosted heathens in place, none are wearing mad hatter shoes. In deep blacken darkness she sharpens her long dagger claws Covered in many a male's blood are her wicked paws And immensely long stinger in her tail, a poison dart She injects her hapless victims, strychnine right in their heart. Vacancy of high upper air, rarified ghosted hearts too. Of frosted heathens in place, none are wearing mad hatter shoes. Robert J. Lindley, May 1st 1973 16 verse dark sonnet Note: She was a real person. This time I was not the victim, my best friend was. He even pondered suicide over her. Glad to say he did not do it. Love is indeed a very, very powerful force.