The sent of moss upon her hair
And crowned by flies and bees,
The noble maid so bright and fair
Sits on her throne of fern and trees.
Her royal household made of squirrels, birds and deer
surround their silent dame in great delight.
Alas she notices no tease, no cheer,
Just like a statue, cold and marble white .
The scent of death upon her chest
She stares up in the sky-
A blood stained sceptre in her breast.
Decay comes slowly kissing her goodbye.