The day drones on so drab and dreary,
Dark clouds cry rain my soul is weary;
Mourning calls its wailing toll to those who cried,
Those dreadful words - our Queen, she has died!
No fuller life lived could be said or have had,
For a Queen so young when she lost her dad;
To find her Prince to have and to hold,
A lifetime together and all the stories told.
Years passed along with each calendar’s flit,
Jubilee’s celebrated by many a proud Brit;
Through eyes that ruled the monarch’s reign,
Piercing blue jewels that left no soft stain.
Nary a thought ever arose that one day it would end,
Her throne would stand empty and epitaphs be penned;
To be written by those more literary than I,
For all I can wail is — our Queen, she has died!
Hemingway Ink 
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