24 September 2012
Dress swirls in spirals, Red and orange vitals. Dancing and swaying, Never the playing.
Not Queen of the day, Queen of the flame, Singing to the rhythm, Swirling 'round her prism.
Defeating the darkness, Burning with just a caress, Destroying her path, Wood feels her wrath.
Can kill anything, Makes bells loudly "DING!" The diminisher of life, The ally of death with her flaming knife.
But with out her, We wouldn't live for yer', But with her, Red burns splotch our skin there.
With or without, We will not doubt, As she dances her dance, And prances her prance.
Everywhere is her home, A lake her only tomb. She takes the blame, The Queen of the Flame.
© Sydney C September 2012 All rights reserved
Queen of The Flame • Opuss № I