The Jester’s Hat

Ponderings from Beaufort St – 27thMay 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

I tip my non-existent hat

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