i sat in cherry
upon the hand carved
throne of ivory bone
in the empty room
of chiseled stone
with its vaulted ceilings
that echo with the silence
black and white diamond tiles
patterning the floor
no woven tapestries
of virgins fair or unicorns
to soften the harsh space
the cold is bitter chill
seeps into my bones
my breath a frozen mist
frost licking at the
leaded windows
in this frozen dream
no servants to wait upon my word
no court in my thrall
a queen of nothing
of no one
not even myself
to command
I long to return to a
richer sanity
© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved
Poet's Corner 