Summer’s scorching reign was over, and the world finally became a stage for the succeeding princess. High hopes were held of her and the events of her coronation as documented in a lost journal reads;
As the sun crowned autumn,
with a fitting tiara bathed in gold,
whistling winds blew their bagpipes,
tree twigs swayed softly in the melodious aura,
and lush leaves fell fatuously
in deference to her majesty;
Alas, not all subjects agreed to bend the knee,
for they feared the land’s drought may never cease,
and how did the new queen respond?
Well, she sicced her soldiers on them.
There’s the graceful allure of august auroras,
and the radiance of a splendid sun,
seeing through the teardrops of heaven;
There’s the ravishing bloom of pink cherry blossoms,
and the artsy resplendence,
weaved into the plumes of swirling macaws;
There’s the last golden smile of a summer sunset,
and the stunning dazzle of the moon and stars,
enlivening the gorgeous collage of the night sky;
but, of all the beauties mother nature has borne,
you, my dear, will forever be second to none.
It’s been eons since you left,
but, your perfume still lingers in the attic;
the sun sleeps,
the dark creeps,
and as each day passes,
our past evanesces,
now, memories of you are
as thin as a knife’s edge,
and the more I cling unto them,
the more I bleed out,
so, it’s time I let go.
I looked up to you
for a light unto my path,
but your light shone so bright
that I turned my back on you,
now, all I’ve become
is a silhouette,
lost in your midst.