The crowd counted her,
Lass of provident.
Only she knew that she’s a Regina,
Of forced regiment.
The luscious, luminous lurex
Brought her no jubilation.
All she prayed for is that arms,
Which embraces her giving liberation.
Though, she’s an impeccable carved
Slayer, shimmering
And her tone pristine a sonorous
Ringing
But still, her heart implores deeply
Within,
For him, the searchlight of her prisoned
desires, to fit in.
