Sailing across an uncertain sea,
Her white veil trails
The wind of things to come,
While her thick golden train flows behind
Like the waves in the wake
Of warm colours now gone.
So she fills her cold castles
With France and her beauty
In defiance of shadows
Not her own
And dances her way over stone floors
In riches, decorating herself
Her own throne.
C. LJ Ireton 2019
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