And so it came the end of life
In Balmoral heralded by pipes
Via Edinburgh to London, the resting places
All of them lined with mourning faces
Near Poets’ Corner in the Lantern room
Atop the catafalque in the eerie gloom
A normal lady who by twist of fate
Came to be our Head of State
Outside, a dying carpet of wilted flowers
Lies beneath the royal towers
Where the bereft masses queue
Hoping to get just one last view
From the Thames a tide of tears
Flows to salute 70 long years
Strangers unite in a shared grief
Old soldiers salute their CinC
The people weep to see the end
Victorious they can no longer send
Her Majesty, their revered Queen
The only monarch they’ve known or seen
Citizens of every stripe and sex
Shuffle through to pay respects
A man in sandals and white socks
Stares in reverence at the box
Tomorrow then is the final day
The cortège will make its way
In the shadow of the Shard
Past the silent funeral guard
From the Abbey a stepping stone
Through London streets once her own
To Windsor Castle where by default
She will rest in the Royal Vault
Bells will ring and cannons fire
Along the journey to the shires
Past transport hubs and corner shops
And across the Nation, things will stop
Stephen A. Roberts
