In the time of silence, when dimness is all I see,
you can make me believe the world is maybe royal.
Across the bed with silk and mirrors, where lies my pride,
you may convince me I’m the last in the monarchy of lions.
If the edges of my ivory gown touch the ballroom floor,
you can turn into ashes my crystal crown, let my hair flow down.
And when the neon in your eyes set in flames my naive heart,
I can even let you call me a Queen, I can accept your endearment.
But in mornings with coffee, when the sound of traffic is all I hear,
don’t say a word, don’t send me orchid petals in envelopes.
When your voice is just an echo in the distance, I tremble under
the spell of my own world, for I can only be a lady, but never royal.
© 2011 Broken Sparkles