I thought this was a fitting poem to share as I reflect on the death of Queen Elizabeth II.
Between the ages of two and four, my son was obsessed with her. We’re not monarchists by any stretch but he loved everything to do with London, Buckingham Palace, and Her Majesty herself. His preschool teacher would greet his daily morning request to make a crown with renewed delight, as though he hadn’t asked this for 247 days in a row.
And as I share in the poem, while I did frequently get irritated with the sheer volume of paper crowns that used to litter our house, when I finally tried one on, I got it.
You wore that crown with a rare blend of boldness and duty, Your Majesty. For that, and for some nostalgic reasons that are still blurry yet surprisingly emotional for me, you will be missed. 👑 #RIPQueenElizabeth
PAPER CROWNS
Your teacher is a calm vessel
of hugs and crafts,
the kind that when you ask her
every morning
can you help me make a crown
she smiles a real smile
and tells you that sounds
like a fun plan.
So even though our house
is now littered with them,
like the aftermath
of some royal bender,
I can’t bring myself to recycle them.
I even tried one on this morning
while I ate my cereal
and I understood it then,
the ritual of them,
as I sat a little taller
feeling unreasonably good.
~ bentlily
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