Of frozen flakes and untied bows
Of fading frost and mistletoe
Upon her birth, the people cheer
She gazes fondly but with fear.
Perhaps a year of new hope and joy
Perhaps the dawn of love and faith
But in her heart, she can't help but think:
Perhaps a boon for crime and hate.
She, the first, the queen of all. She, the beacon within the fall.
She, that leads to the last Away from broken dreams gone past.
Awaiting her arrival is not in vain For in her hands she holds the rein
To the years to come and times to meet
Controlling it all as she sits on her seat.