With all the universe and no time,
Our fairy-tale, my Lady, be divine.
Sitting on top of mountain peaks
Staring down a valley bleak
The havoc wreaked by Ghangis Khan,
Holds no cup to being your pawn.
Had we all the universe and all the time
Perhaps our fair-tale, my Lady, would rhyme.
One thousand leagues under the sea,
Are eleven mermaids swimming in glee.
Those swimming angels when they sing,
Scream a song, my Love, of a forgotten ring.
On their floor they do etch
An oceanic poem sketch
On the eleventh of the tenth each year
On the midnight hour these words appear
"This is the Queen of Queens,
Gaze into my spell sweet fools
Forever in love as my tools"
If only we had a small piece of earth
Perhaps this tale may have a better birth.
Alas it is told with a short life as such,
With cryptic rhymes as a linguistic crutch.
To be buried alive with no life,
Forgotten in time wounded by strife.
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