There I am,
riding off into the sunset,
on his trusty white steed.
He carries me across the threshold –
to place a gold circlet of uncommon jewels
atop my trembling raven topped head.
The makeup team is called in,
to clean up the mess I call my face,
to improve, to conceal, to enhance,
to cleanse, to prevent old age.
My ladies-in-waiting give me a crash course
in etiquette, like I didn’t remember how
to act like a true lady, to perform my duties.
They raise the velvet curtains,
release the gold braid ropes,
kneeling to my prince and I.
The bright sunlight invades my eyes,
the voices swell. and they are
in rapture at their new queen,
and I greet the commoners.
I cry like there’s no tomorrow,
I cast a sidelong glance to my man’s blade,
what about yesterday?