Anne


She looketh down, her head so still,
Her eyes whilst closed, await the kill.
Silence fell, a cock did crow,
The angst she felt, began to grow.
The sword was hid, beneath the hay,
Held by the swordsman from Calais.
Her headdress gone, her eyes bound tight,
The blade held high, to catch the light.
The dawn rose fast, as if on wing,
The signal for the sword to sing.
Then down it came, it's aim so true,
Towards her neck, intent to hew.
And with one swipe, the head, it rolled,
So thus, the punishment was doled.
The innocence which she did claim,
Was not enough to clear her name.
Now head and body, in arrow chest,
In unmarked ground, are laid to rest.
She once looked down, her head so still,
Her eyes now closed, after the kill.

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