The Ice Queen

I have nothing against princesses,
I like the sound of crackling fire,
and I’m very fond of cats,
but it doesn’t mean I don’t see
when injustice is being served.

Why are wolves always hunted
yet you forgive your cats
for killing birds and little mice
and bringing them as gifts?
Why is ice considered cruel
when fire can hurt as well?
Why are queens always evil
and princesses you root for?

I write my own fairy tale,
and I create a powerful queen
a woman needs not be weak
nor act sweet and for rescue wait
if she wants to be a heroine.

So I bestow on her a gift of ice,
ice-cold eyes, a power to create,
she will freeze you if you dare
in a tower lock her up,
she will make you disappear
before your wicked curse is uttered.

A magic mirror in her possession,
but who’s the fairest she doesn’t ask,
she uses it to uncover lies,
to see where’s a need to fight,
defend herself and all she loves,
a crown of ice on head held high.

She runs in the company of wolves,
with them she is always free,
she howls proudly at the moon
and hunts those who deserve it;
little girls that carry baskets
are not always what they seem,
sometimes a poisoned apple
and hidden thorns lie therein.

A queen, not a princess,
powerful and not naïve,
clever and not benign,
her touch so cold that it burns,
but that doesn’t mean she’s cruel.

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Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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