Cynthia, The Queen Poem by Maymay Marie

There is a queen in the palace,
sitting while reading, and studying while talking,
Wear a cape of characters needed for the kingdom,
Everyone is amazed at how she walks humbly in place.

The queen dutifully sings her favorite song,
In the middle of her kinship and folks,
In her home, in the palace, and in the nation,
She looks for perfection one must own.

She tenderly pats a child, soft heart,
By her magical words, everything appears,
Wearing the best, according to her beats,
Everyone looks up telling her thanks.

She wears a written lot of crown in her hand,
Aside from being the queen, she is also a nun,
A counselor, a wordsmith, a captain, a mother dearest,
A master molder, an armor, a dreamer, of above gems.

The queen is an engineer,
Creates bridges for the youngs to conquer,
Towards the pilar of joys,
No one can put asunder as long as she reigns.

She is the moon in the darkest sky,
Her wits make everyone laugh and smile,
Lifting their heavy shoulders,
Telling that life is a constant change for a crown.