The aging Dame
sits forlorn inside a cloud
heavy with mystical webs.
her dreams woven
in her wrinkled lifelines,
Her eyes are fogged
with the winter breaths
Of Merlin’s words.
Sparkling sapphires
that frame the scorpions’ cage
to be opened
under her eyelashes,
at dawn.

The beauty
of her eternal night
stings the new enigma
of a day ,born
in Peace.©