(The puzzled lingers, then escapes.)
by Joanna Quinto
The Queen is forlorn in months of stagnance, in line for the King and the 'A', to finally consider her a fully-fledged professional. T'was February when the coming up of sun was noticeable and so is the setting of it, the King finally came. Months of cloud nine revived a dead soul. Then, a regenerated figure -- burried down deep, forgotten and erased, returns and begins touching one suit, the heart. Now, the Queen's heart is between a four-leaf clover and a spade for a clay soil. The Queen is perplexed, utters, "Where must the King be? What about Jack?"
The Queen planned a matrimony in North America with the King. After which, she went to South, and discovers that Jack also desires for the same thing.
The answer to Queen's own inquiry is indistinct.
Not a soul knows the triangle, but a piece of shining diamond.
A lady woke up today and asked herself, "Am I a Queen?"
An alter ego replied, "Well, it's up to you to linger or to escape."
