The light of dawn warms my tanned, scarred yet desirable back,
as the rest of my body reeks of the everlasting scent of a royal lilac.

My dark mane cascades in luscious curls over my broad shoulders,
the very ones that are capable of supporting the transport of impenetrable boulders.

It is without doubt that my stride hitches the soul and breath of another,
for my fiery and courageous spirit resembles the great queen's late mother.

My normally inquisitive eyes glazed over Her Majesty, casually finding her by the window, sitting.

I allow my slender fingers to slide across the jawline of the great queen, as I captured her divine attention.

Although, I must add, the title may be unfitting, perhaps misleading.

Because of my expertise, a queen, she is no longer.
For I've always been better, always been stronger.

© Alexandrina Vicorii