Un-Fairie Queen
An un-fairie queene
from an unchivalrous tale
lumping and clumping
off beaten tracks
down beaten ones
so beaten
that they click and crack
criss-crossed with crabgrass
so tall that it looks
like some fiendish crag
it crassly sticks to soles
and copiously
feasts on clothes
not only that
there are the pools
mighty, classy and cool
clamouring loud and clear
to be given their due
for they are
the sole claim to fame
of those grumpy roads
they welcome cars
with their clip-clop
and lure them to splosh
to splash the passers-by
Then comes that tired
un-fairie queene
holding a ray of hope
clinging to it
lest it slip and fall
and though dim it is
she still believes
it can bring some light
and touch some souls
That’s what she has
her feet of clay
but come what may
she will forever
have faith
in her fairy ray.
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