The Tragic Queen Poem by Joseph Peter Ostapiuk

My Tragic Queen
The night has come so soon
And your fair porcelain face
No longer shines by the light of the moon
The pyres burn for you
Against the shadow of your tormented sea
Where your troubles lie just out of my reach
Hidden in places I just could never be
And all of your citadels
Burn down like a second troy
And all of the ashes lay in my hands
And sink beneath the sands of my joy
Where was your tired voice
moaning through the door
Where were your passing steps
passing along the floor
Where was I
What could have I possibly done
How could I grasp your dying hands
to make the past undone
Oh, my Tragic Queen
The night has come so soon
And I can still hear you calling
By the lonesome light of the moon