You went to England to visit the Queen,
came back dazed, unsure of what she'd seen,
but this poem would just be a fairy tale if
       I continued in this vein,
so I think I will stop and start again...
 
Buried deep behind the fortress walls,
the ones that make up her public persona,
there lies the real person who calls,
searching for a way to get out, huh?
 
It seems that the little girl raises her head
       only when she's alone,
The fears and loneliness to be faced at home,
And yet she wishes she would meet someone
       who would understand,
someone who could see through the mask,
       and lend a helping hand.
 
The history of people lets us know,
that both good and bad things come and go,
but if we don't reach out and touch them as they pass,
history will not even notice us, it will think us an ass.
So in the midst of the afternoon,
while the tourists burn and the lovers swoon,
I reach out my hand to you and say,
I think I would like to be your friend someday.
 
The CyberPoet