Queen

I stand before her majesty
staring at a face that is hard and wise
she looks as if she hasn’t relaxed in years
I wonder if she remembers how to laugh
what a child’s kiss feels like on her nose
if tears can still flow from eyes of stone
if she locks away a great love in her heart
she speaks of things that are not important to me
in a voice that does not beckon me
to smile or even to dare twitch
I stare at the massive crown
nestled into her graying hair
and count the diamonds
that dangle there
thinking that maybe the reason queens
get to wear crowns
is so that something about them
still sparkles
once the sparkle inside them is tamed and buried
for the sake of public service.