Be thy warned insipid one,
The lady rests not on her laurels,
She's not at peace, before thine eyes,
The lady loves, because she can,
Lady Madonna, she walks on egg shells,
As prima- donna,
she is awestruck,
Hiding from the eyes of mortal men and angels,
She's carried on the pens,
Where religion disintegrates,
from the souls of other lonely writers,
This beautiful lady,
she's not for turning,
It's not only witches, 
these days,
that the evil ones are burning,
And that they should not do,
Where proof is non-existent,
This lady has a golden heart and the face of Mona Lisa.
(C) Livvi