Reluctant she walks towards the throne.
A princess she was once, a queen she has become.
In the reckless exuberance of youth, all knowledge was wasted as she gave away her jewels to thieves that pillaged with disdain.
But her treasure these things weren’t, for she did not want to own them. Treacherous objects are those that eat the soul of their temporary masters.
The flowering trees in the garden, barren for so long, have decided to bloom at last. The wind is their accomplice, carrying their flowers and softly placing them on her hair in the shape of a crown.
Her queendom waits no more.