She stood atop her balcony and stared,
Beyond the masses fawning at her face.
She raised a stoic chin  frozen in place,
A porcelain visage emotions spared.

While all around pomposity adorned,
With brightly colored fabrics, silver sets,
Gold, diamonds, gems and pompous little pets,
All things of which the huddled poor were scorned.

The centuries' tradition well remains,
Ingrained such that even the poor decree,
The rulers rule, the ruled should not be seen.

Yet none the privileged logically explains,
The separation's needed wide degree,
Why God who's blessed should more so save the Queen.

(C)2014, Christos Rigakos