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Trees of Old MAG
Night takes his pity at the once great Queen,
her kingdom in ruins,
riches robbed by time.
Death did her no justice,
and only robbed her of her crown.
The years have not been kind.
Life slowly peels her robes
and the night,
the pitying night,
lets the Queen keep her midnight glow.
Two claws sprout from her
just barely a skeleton,
scaring away the new,
in vain attempts
to frighten Father Time
to awaken the old.
Your Highness’ legacy,
just a mere shadow of her past life
will abandon her throne eagerly
after the ax of man
strikes its final blow.
© Anonymous
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