A Queen Of Hearts

The rose of York, a fragile, fleeting bloom,

Catherine Howard, young and fair of face,

Entangled in a web of shadowed room,

And caught within the court's relentless chase.

A queen she was, yet scarcely more than child,

Whose girlish heart sought love, and found but fire,

By whispers lured, and promises beguiled,

She stumbled, lost to passion's wild desire.

A king's cold gaze, a husband's wounded pride,

A web of intrigue spun with cunning thread,

Her whispered secrets could not be denied,

And so the axe descended, sharp and red.

Too young to learn, too fair to meet such fate,

She met her end, a queen unfortunate.