She marched from the parallel line in fragmented steps as if floating on a broken ship
Diagonally, she summoned in a refined tongue my response from afar
Deep in my oriental thoughts, I failed to answer her demand
Advanced further in a faded pink gown with falling feathers she approached me
Her dignified countenance was squeezed with a crinkled smile. She bestowed it to my alien existence
Condescended Her Majesty to walk alongside this humble being—myself, she ordered submission in the form of monetary tributes from me
‘As you wish', ‘At Your Majesty’s service’ were the respect I failed to pay with my broken language
In her imperial wrath, she revoked her license of my presence in her land, and my utterances on her tongue. She ordered my exile.
Floating she continued on her magnificent ship with no conquests. Her Majesty disappeared into the street she ruled. The fairness of the skin she inherited from Britannia vanished with her like smokes
Left in awe of her greatness and the privilege of her affableness, I returned to my exotic trajectory with gratitude for her imperial glory.
