IN GRATITUDE.

On the eve of this long weekend

I make thanks

To my Queen

For being there

Whenever need was most,

But

Unbeknownst;

Whenever England’s fleeting leaders

Flared their last

She cast shadows o’er the next

Who knelt

As election’s fickle

Digit fell

And heralded them;

Whenever mighty countries called

She hailed them all

And with grace faced

Them down the halls

Of castle keeps

And swept doubt’s

Secrets out;

Whenever duty blew its bugle

Few drew breath enough

To test themselves

Against its mettle,

Except for her,

Who always knew

She ever would,   

And when scrutiny came scurrying,

And we hurried to be rid,

She bid us well

And made us feel

That we,

Her people,

Were the ones unworthy.