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THE QUEEN
Amb. Diana Mehmeti
The Queen on the evening throne…
with hair spilled like night over shoulders,
Waiting for the steps of love,
In the corridors of silence – praying!
I came without a crown – only with heart in hands,
Like a tired traveler… who had learned your name,
In the language of fire!
You smiled lightly – and the moon lowered its light over us in the grass…
as if afraid to break the sanctity of that moment!
Love is not to possess, but to stay close – even when storms test the roots of the soul!
Then I understood she was not just the queen of the evening, but the woman who gave meaning to waiting,
The light that enters without knocking…
Into the rooms of being!
And I loved you like that – like rare things are loved, without big promises, but with the loyalty of a star… that returns to its sky every night!
On the throne of the evening you remained like a quiet prayer, while I with your name on my lips learned: that true love is not fire that burns, but light that teaches you; Not to lose each other on the straight road.
with hair spilled like night over shoulders,
Waiting for the steps of love,
In the corridors of silence – praying!
I came without a crown – only with heart in hands,
Like a tired traveler… who had learned your name,
In the language of fire!
You smiled lightly – and the moon lowered its light over us in the grass…
as if afraid to break the sanctity of that moment!
Love is not to possess, but to stay close – even when storms test the roots of the soul!
Then I understood she was not just the queen of the evening, but the woman who gave meaning to waiting,
The light that enters without knocking…
Into the rooms of being!
And I loved you like that – like rare things are loved, without big promises, but with the loyalty of a star… that returns to its sky every night!
On the throne of the evening you remained like a quiet prayer, while I with your name on my lips learned: that true love is not fire that burns, but light that teaches you; Not to lose each other on the straight road.
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