Atop an crude tower of crumbling stone,
Sat a Queen of the times, sitting sadly alone;
Neither dead nor alive, her feelings stood still,
As still as the mountains, as still as her quill.
She wrote of fond times, long in the past,
Times of joy, times of love; all eventually pass;
But the Queen remained forever, beautiful and fair,
Her body not human, instead of Elvan heir.
She married and loved a king not of her blood,
Together they wed, but alone she had sons;
He had died in the war, fighting for justice,
Her sons grew old, but died like they must.
Through the years she had wed many more men,
All who lived differently, and all who are dead;
One was a tyrant, not fit for the throne,
Forced into marriage, the choice not her own.
The second, was a king of virtue and pride,
This one she cared for, ’til the day that he died;
The next was a youth, a buffoon with a crown,
An embarrassing sight, would flinch at a sound.
Her heart remained true to the first of those kings,
A man of peace, of humanity, nearly free from all sin;
He had given her love, trumped by no other,
Righteous and valiant, an admirable lover.
The rest of her kind set sail over seas,
The choice that she made had forbid her to leave;
The age of the Elves had come and had gone,
Yet the age of the Queen continued to prolong.
For centuries on end she would think of the day,
The world would end, letting her be on her way;
To a state of the mind, of body, and soul,
To be with her one love, to comfort, to hold.
Though privileged at birth with eternal life,
Her conscience and mind simply wanted to die;
Regrets now and then would flow through her mind,
Wanting to start over, to go back in time.
But happiness came from what was once said,
By the first man who took her hand to be wed;
“Your love’s never ending, and neither is mine,
Forget not our promises when it’s far past my time.”
So atop that tall tower, so decrepit and old,
Sat the Queen of the times, sitting sadly alone;
Life everlasting merits sorrow with grief,
This is the unfortunate curse of the Queen.