By tomorrow, May 19th, it will have been 478 years since the execution of Anne Boleyn. In honor of a woman that I admire, and her daughter, Elizabeth I, who happens to be one of my greatest heroes, I wrote a sonnet. I have never really written one before but I figured, why not? I am trying to write just about anything these days so I hope there are people out there who enjoy it!
Removing the sapphires and the pale mask.
Subtracting the crown from atop her head.
Hopelessly occupied, she tries to bask
in the ignorance of why her mother is dead.
Finally alone in her bed, Bess dreams,
fidgeting in layers of damask and satin.
Her eyes spring open as she screams,
picturing her mother’s sanguine drops stain her skin.
She breathes heavily, wiping tears from her eyes,
pausing to pray that nobody had heard.
Her feelings and memories could mean her demise.
To Queen Bess, ‘mother’ was no longer a word.
At dawn, she takes the helm and paints a grin ear to ear,
secretly allowing her mother’s love to steer.