Site icon Chandamama

The Lost Queen

Slum @pexels.com
Reading Time: < 1 minute

The Lost Queen

She smiled when she knew

It was going to be you

She bowed her head and blushed shy

The sacred thread as you did tie

She bore the pain of labour

To make you a proud father

She served you like a maid

Didn’t bother as her beauty did fade

Her days passed away into years in your care

A Father’s Princess has now no dare

To wage battles against drunken neglect

To raise her shield against the arrows of abusive words and battered regret

Her only motive is to guard her marriage fort

From reaching the large halls of a district court

Her children she wears as a crown

Trying to safeguard her kingdom of life

From an enemy who now sits on her throne as a King

Inspired from a brutal incident in my surroundings of a poor lady being dragged away from her son by her drunken husband in front of a helpless  crowd in a market .

Exit mobile version