Ponderings from Beaufort St – 27th
May 2013
She was a woman of a
certain age
She’d past mid-way
tween mother and crone
A fading queen, on
whose head
A jester’s hat sat
Red and blue, pointed
A starfish crown
T’was 8am
On Monday morn
And she outside
The local church
On low stone wall
Her baggage packed.
Perchance she played
the fool for God
Grown bored with
mankind’s sin
Tired of human misery
And leaden weight of
hope
Perhaps God could face
his week
For she had made Him
laugh
The moon had passed
its peak
But had not set
Perhaps it’s pull
still strong
They shared some lunar
link
That filled her mind
with laughter
She a jester to the
Queen of night
Perhaps she’d reached
that age
Where conventions lose
their grip
Less concerned what
others think
Free to be herself
And Queen of all she
saw
She donned her Jesters
crown
So to the fading queen
Queen of the Night
Queen of all she saw
Queen of Jester’s
crown
Who dared to try and
make God laugh
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