Our Young Queen

My few years of existence
         have not gone well.
I awaken every morning
         to the early church bell.
 
I hasten to the fire
         to bring warmth to the room.
then move to the corner closet
         and reach for the broom.
 
Over on the stove
         I place a pot of water
then wait for the heat
         to make it hotter and hotter.

When breakfast is over
         I await my commands.
I am to fulfill
         my mother’s demands.

The day ends with a word
         from our young queen
whose fairness and beauty
         is rarely seen.

By nightfall I lay down to sleep
         and rest my tired head.
I allow my tired body
         to sink into the feathery bed.

I roll over
         and a white light appears
with a sound in the distance
         of laughter and cheers.

Two men approach and open
         two white doors.
I am blinded by the light
         reflecting off the shining bright floors.

People around me
         smile and bow.
I am struck by my importance
         right here and right now.

The orchestra in the corner
         begins to play
while those around me
         prepare to dance the night away.

I am standing in the middle
         of this colorful sea
and a young handsome man
         approaches me.

He grabs my waist
         and takes my hand.
He leads me over
         to the band.

We dance
         for hours
Then he leads me outside under
         the light of two castle towers.

He again takes my hand
         and leads me away.
My stare upon him
         has yet to sway.

He opens a door
         and leads me in.
I can feel his hands
         upon my skin.

I feel a pressure
         in my back.
The ability to turn
         is something I suddenly lack.

A pain
         shoots up my spine.
I no longer feel
         his hand in mine.

I awaken with a start
         and hear noises under my bed.
I hear the people saying,
         “Our young queen is dead.”