The Queen
The Queen is dead; a kingdom mourns
And all through her domain
There will be countless tributes
To her long amazing reign.
Ascending to the throne so young,
She ruled with style and grace
And no one (certainly not Charles!)
Will ever take her place.
To us, across the pond, she seemed
So decorous and prim,
Requiring a curtsy (from a her)
Or bow (from him).
Her matching suits and hats defined
Her monarchy and yet,
Beneath that stiff demeanor
Lurked the Queen most never met.
I once read that her handbag,
Always draped across her arm,
Was moved quite subtly to
Her other elbow, an alarm.
She did this when she’d had enough
And wanted to take leave,
A signal that her handlers
Were on lookout to receive.
That story showed her human side;
Will wonders never cease?
We’ll miss you, Queen Elizabeth,
And may you rest in peace.
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