She stands
Reluctant queen
The crown is placed upon her head
Heavy hearted
She walks to her balcony
The piazza is empty
No one to wave to
No waves to jump in
The depths of sea
Too far to fathom
Breathe
A glimmer from the gold
A shaft of light hits the curve
of metal
A bird sings in place of trumpets
Dropping seeds in the pots as it passes
A drop of rain stops by –
Its enough to wash her to her bed…
Her hair is a mess but she dresses the next day for duty
Sprouts appear in terracotta
The smell of coffee lifts her to her slippers
The bird returns
This time it stays a little longer
More than messenger.
A postman passes
Uniform sharp and brilliant blue
A rare beast whistling on a bicycle
Music –
The sprouts are growing
Songs fill the stone arches
Her royalty flickers awake
She lifts the bucket
and waters the pot in perfect symmetry
Her legs stretch
Her shoulders strengthen
The crown is still heavy but she is strong
She understands
She lifts her head proudly, walks to the balcony and waves
Beside her a sunflower, and on her face
A smile brighter than the gold of any crown.
…………
Órla is a Storyteller, Performer and Writer living in Galway.