Thursday 7 April 2016

Your Grace


She alone is the overseer,

Possessed by her thoughts
She sews cloth and makes wine,
Genuflects before bedtime.
Never led kings,
Yet ‘neath her banner
They’ll proudly sing
“Your grace,
Give us a lord
For whom we shall bleed
And adore,”
As they pass by the main gate

And into the storm.


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