Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy,
Muddled hands caress the sky,
Broken bones and shattered thrones,
Bring out the best in martyred lives.
A Daughter found a looking glass,
Intrepid eyes forgot to ask,
A hidden grove, a treasure trove,
A disaster yet to come to pass.
She found a hill with ants within,
Their tiny lives remiss of sin,
She counted down, to baleful sounds,
The creak of burning, fragile skin.
A King once found his Princess gone,
Her bed long cold, her curtains drawn.
Her note proclaimed a new age came,
Her mind consumed by darkened dawn.
He saw the sun and fell bereft,
The lights in town as bright as death.
He saw the streets engulfed in heat,
A scathing blaze in midnight's breadth.
A Princess saw the space between.
A future without king or queen.
In her haze, she set the blaze,
To save her from the guillotine.