Dancing off the tips of
tongues and gliding over
crimson land stained by
attacks, my name was born
to the English amidst blitzkrieg,
struck by lightning
war.

It capers within the tall
blades of cucumber
green grass, moist with
morning’s dew. It inhales
and transfers flowers’ yellow
dust so that it may reproduce
its grandeur. And it tears
through inutile weeds that
give character to where it rules:
Cyneburg’s
fields.

It reigns throughout
a royal forest’s damp
wood where it whistles
in the warm breath of
God and sings amongst the
drenched swaying trees,
developing into a melodious
song that hums with
chirping birds and
captures the soul of
Royalty.

Kimberly,
It lives
It breathes
It reigns.