Dame De Magnifique

Everything was silent as she stepped into the room,

Her dress was made of silk,

Her eyes were deepest blue,

And footsteps trod across the floor,

As were on their knees soon,

The men who found none to compare,


“I think I may love you.”


Her dance-steps lacked the heart of care; they were grace alone,

Her hair as gold as sunset,

Covered by a diamond dome,

It proclaimed riches far to tell,

No paper banner tome,

Man after man would come to her,

No words but:

“I think I may love you.”


She stepped out of a pirouette, strolled across the floor,

Her heels clicked with the music,

Her face was like a door,

It let them in a little bit,

But slammed back in their face;

That Dame De Magnifique pierces hearts,

They will say,

“I think I may love you.”


He step was deathly silent as she made her way there,

Her belt was hidden under,

Her dagger poised and ripe,

Her victim was apart from crowds,

Having pierced men’s hearts, she moved,

The king was hers, nothing to lose,

He won’t say:

“I think I may love you.”

The End

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