The Fading Queen

Her words are beyond me.
Her simple voice itself a song.
Her movements still full of grace,
Casting flower petals as she goes.
I understand her so little
And yet still so very much.

She, a Springtime Queen in the midst of Autumn,
Yet no one has told her.
So she keeps on singing
Her marvelous songs,
Words I cannot comprehend,
Hers, a gentle voice full of hope.

No one has told her her realm is ending
No one has told her she is fading
The world has sold her place
It has no need for her magic
And no one has told the world:
“Those with no place for magic need it the most.”
So, I tell the Fading Queen:

“Remain Springtime.
Sing,

Dance,
Weave words,
Prove the world wrong.
Springtime only ends when your song does.
You will always have an audience in me.”

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