#5 The Princess
She doesn’t say much as she moves through her day.
She doesn’t sleep, she’s a princess they say.
Others say goddess in hushed, hurried whispers.
Still she moves on through the town, never lingers.
Sometimes she stops in a deep contemplation.
She stares into space for enigmatic revelations.
Her fingers ascend and they light on her pendant,
She smiles, or frowns, even laughs for a moment.
She always appears at the sun’s first small light
A quiet transformation from her role in the night.
For when twilight enters and evening bells sing,
as soon as sun’s gone she turns back to a ring.
About the Author (Author Profile)
Just a young whippersnapper who's interested in writing. >..<" I do a bit of poetry, and sometimes I write short stories when I have time.Subscribe
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