I struggle to grasp the remains of Denmark’s warmth
As silent tears of grief run down my porcelain cheeks.
Each night grows colder in the emptiness of my bed,
The crown a deadweight.

Black fabric cloaks the kingdom,
Blending in with the grey clouds that gather in the sky,
Weighing down the crown,
Drowning everyone in a dark sea.

But I saw the face of my husband--
No, the face of a brother.
Yet he shares the same slanting eyes
The peaks on his forehead
And the curves of his lips.

That face washes away the pain in my heart
As he smiles with kindness that reflects that of the old King.
He warms the silk sheets of my barren bed
And shares the weight of the crown.

Now, white silk touches the hearts of Denmark,
A contrast to the grey clouds looming in the sky,
Lightening the gold of the crown,
Lifting everyone onto a bright cloud.

I close my eyes and my thoughts drift to dear Hamlet.
What a tragedy for him to lose a father
And it is my duty to give him one.

All that lives must die,
But my husband is not one life that must.