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.