She sits a high seat
The Duchess of Dawn,
A sequin of silver
To skein of silk sewn.

She twinkles on peacock,
The hue of the haze,
The moon, just a ghost,
Bows down at her gaze.

He swears His fealty,
His heart she has won,
But she will bend knee
To the face of the sun!

A figment of dreamers,
A tear we all cry,
A rhinestone of crystal
On the face of the sky.

She has a light fragrance,
To her scent we are drawn.
But she's as a vapor,
Here... and then gone.
Her name is Venus

The Duchess of Dawn.


SøułSurvivør
(C) 4/18/2018