A woman stands strong and sensuous and proud
Her mind a fractured mirror cloaked in fog
Shard by shard
The bayonet finds her way, following the sweet scent of the ****** rose
Wielding her Scarborough Fair
The sass of Parsley
The wisdoms of Sage
The touch of Rosemary
The passage of Thyme

The woman
Born of the dark side of the moon
With powers untold
Able to twist and bend the spindles of shadows and time
Fair-skinned
Lips full and glazed with cardinal sin
Slick locks of ebony
A perfumed 500 year blur
With the night's lunar charm that twinkles in her eye
And butterflies that swoon for their Madama
She
The blood child born of the union of the sun and moon
The black sheep of the dark arts
Is one with the most beloved of Umbran treasures
Is the sweetest cherry with a long-forgotten radiant smile,
A harsh destiny
Who looks to the left side of the moon for the upcoming chaos.