A Woman Scorned
Long ago in the days of old, A man did as he wanted, A woman, as she was told.
As an act of rare defiance, She declined a respectable alliance, Thus casting shame, On the princes, royal name.
She was in love with another, And would have no other. This man, her love, her life, Only to him, would she be a wife.
In the golden tower, she was locked, No visitors, for all entrances were blocked. "Oh my lover, where can you be? Please come to rescue me."
Days and weeks, locked behind prison walls, Losing faith, that her lover would come at all. Finally, after months she relented, And to the royal marriage, she consented.
When she saw the royal groom of choice, In her heart, she rejoiced. For it was none other, than her dear Sweet lover.
How did this come to pass, That her lover, was of the royal class? She wasn't told, and it was meant to be, He wanted to be sure, she wasn't after his money.
ILL she became,
as she thought of his game, A prison tower, she had lived, For only to him, her love would she give.
As he strutted around his royal mansion, Wearing only the best of fashion, While she worried and mourned, behind blocked Walls, for a love, she thought forever gone.
As she stood, her vows to give, She vowed, in hell, he would live. All men had best be warned, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
© Cynthia Clark