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.