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
And her tone pristine a sonorous
But still, her heart implores deeply
For him, the searchlight of her prisoned
desires, to fit in.