The Seven Month Queen

A queen by proxy, fate's unkind decree,

No love ignited in her husband's eye.

Anne of Cleves, her gentle spirit free,

A pawn in politics, she learned to sigh.

The King's desire, a portrait's fair deceit,

He found no beauty in the flesh and bone.

The marriage faltered, bitter and incomplete,

A royal union, coldly overthrown.

Yet Anne, with grace, accepted her release,

A generous settlement, her comfort won.

No bitter words, no vengeful, sharp increase,

But quiet strength beneath the setting sun.

A sister to the King, her title gained,

A life of peace, though love she ne'er attained.