Where the heart of Ice and souls are none
There was a Princess whose heart was numb,
For inside she was Cold by her nature's Christ
She breathes only Snow and demands of Ice
Adorned with flakes and daring spikes.
She rules the world of Winter's coven
For divine right's blood adores her by the dozen.
Her beauty attracts the most handsome of suiters
Whome fall onto bended knees with kind purposals.
They catch her dark eye but she does not try
for the Royal seers see this in no future-
See Love in no soul - by the use the Sun's men at their lustfull disposal.
The Queen dares to call herself a Virgin -Oh!-
The lying heart is filled with woe!
Crying - oh, crying, the Princess weeps
Seeing her mother's lust in heeps.
Oh, the Raven hair of the Royal dame
Cast into the air by a flowing breeze;
She stands tall by her silver Mare and his silver curling mane,
Chained by soft - blue diamond reigns,
Adorned in strapless chiffon and lace of pearly pristine
With Lilies of three and a dozen Oleander
Entangled in her dusky locks are
White as the Snow surrounding her -so incitingly desirable
As her curls twist in tumble by the blows of dusty furrows.
The Sky is bleak with foggy incentives
Leaving the Howls who sit in twos of silent festive
Toons as they perch a top the stone statures.
Oh! the dearest Princess gazes off into the Winter's Wonderland,
She sighs and turns to see a small brush of Roses,
Untouched by Winter's chilling zest
Frivolous Roses indeed, she thinks, touching a petal with the palm of her hand
So warm was this petal of bloody design -so beautiful was this petal- so soft and sublime.
If only her heart could hold such heat,
She would love with the hottest of passions and banish this Winter of its Icy Conquests.
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