The Sexagenarian Poem by Francie Lynch

They met
When but sixteen,
She called herself
His Virgin Queen,
And he her Virgin King.
Thus they remained
Til seventeen,
When his lowered drawbridge
Breached the moat,
And for forty years
He paddled her boat.
But coldness grew,
The ice-palace too,
She was an Ice Queen,
His armor tarnished,
His sword was sheathed,
The Lady and her King
Severed bonds,
Relinquished rings
And set new realms and dreams.
He's a western-style S.O.,
He didn't know
Cowgirls rode backwards.
He's now a sexagenarian,
And the Ice-Palace,
A planetarium.