Outside a starlit window stretches a snow-filled plain
Blank canvas waiting in the night for a hand to fill it.
Candle flames flicker against the glass,
A queen’s face reflected in a fantasy
Where her mind wanders with its waking thoughts.
She would rule but for the book in one hand
The other reaching out to the world
Waiting for someone to take hold.
A kingdom given to reign by war
To a ruler longing with desperate heart for peace
At the edge of the snow lies fable
Calling her to its sleeping land of white cliffs over sun-washed seas
Heartache at her back along roads washed with tears
Ahead is this, the final step—an abdication.
I can’t even remember the context, but someone I was talking to today said the word “abdication” and it stuck with me.
Photo is a still from the making of Queen Christina (1933) a film that heavily inspired the poem above.