The Queen she rests upon her stand, overlooking her precious land.
With due respect, she aged with grace, not saying this was the time and place.
I watch as you all stride with pride, through the castle lined with eyes.
The beauty rests upon the ground, for it tells tales some never found.
All glass hovers with warm light, never too dim; always enough bright.
The television does no justice, I see history all too clear.
The echoes shake my Bose speakers near.
I say done well, you have laid The Queen to rest.
I tip my hat to you, I sincerely wish you the best.
YOU ARE READING
Shattered Phases
PoetryPoetry is expression of self. Your internalized emotions thrown vigorously onto a blank canvas scattered into tiny well written (and shall I say worth it) sentences which make up beautiful poems. That is what this book is filled with. Poetry. There...
