The Lady from Sibiu: Sonnet #3

Neigh, not a word spoken this early morn
As Kristal nervously touches fine white lace
Navel concealed, she ponders, her heart, torn
Between the labile smile and painted face

Her battle, born of lonely love and desire,
Quenched 'neath the horde of unseen eyes, hungry
Resolve weakened by false promises afire
Where shadow souls with pledge purses, not honey

To buy distant pleasure purchased and paid
By chits that transcend the chitty-chat, of men
Lost in the winter voids, frozen stone, not made
Warmed only by the spirits desire to begin

Living, not licking, without wonton wails
Where the Lady holds her child's hand, never fails


Note: This is the third sonnet written about Lady Kristal.