Dong goes the fog,
A frog of a lump in my throat.
Swiftly she kisses me and silence my thoughts.
Teary eyes I can’t think nor see no more.
Torn from existing for this moment.
No time to smell the roses,
As she rises to claim her throne.
Hail come the queen with her airy mystified bellow of smoke and bore.
Image via http://therochesterian.com/2013/07/22/4942/