12 September 2013

Her Majesty’s Guests






































You could say life without the wee lady has 
less dividends and fewer moments with that 
rare consensus she portentously breathes; 
it is an easy summation of how she makes 
dependencies and blesses fortunates with 
sanctified smiles. So her majesty’s guests 
play in fields of verdant green, there is an 
air of noblesse oblige, an easy harmony 

But wry views of a tearaway shrew who’ll 
condemn space in singular adjectives with 
adamant tyranny has angels flee on wings 
roused rudely; then we learn who comforts 
who - she is still the same we see, just as 
sweet but a whole lot more needy 
© 10 September 2013, I. D. Carswell