Ode to Joy

The white queen floated
Under a pale moon
The night stars shivered
She was not cold this time.

She heard lilting tones
Her jewelled fingers waved
Only women know what it is to praise
And they were painting her in words.

Her men watched, dimpling
Teasingly threw blue hyacinths at her
Their bright eyes shone
As they showered her with love.

It rained blue-green then
And she only felt warm
A wife, she had loved
A woman, she had lived.

A diva, she danced
A star, she sang
A queen, she only smiled
Her lips were stained scarlet.

Under the purplish dawn
Red roses began to bloom
Her violet veil lifted
A goddess she would now be.

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About Bhumika's Boudoir

I love to laugh, and end up being a part of high drama and stormy emotion even when I don't pursue it. Being creative, and communicating with people get me going. I enjoy all the good things in life especially those that are slightly risque, and apologise little, if ever, for all that I do. Literature is a passion and so is music.
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