No More Majes-Tea and Scones?

Now the Queen’s gone, will that end the tradition?
What will become of my unfulfilled dream
of saving the day then concluding my mission
at Buckingham Palace with scones, jam and cream,
as Her Majesty pours me a cup piping steam?
I’d tell her my story. She’d make me feel seen,
famous and safe, sipping tea with the Queen.

May I please have tea? For I’ve not had enough
of our Queen old and wise as Pooh Bear, who stayed calm,
who stroked the invisible Squishy McFluff,
who made sure the BFG came to no harm,
with Paddington’s sandwich tucked under her arm.
I need to say, Thank you. For everything.
It won’t be the same, having tea with the King.

It won’t be the same—but I might get invited
to go for a drive in the King’s Aston Martin …
We’ll whizz down to Windsor and, after I’m knighted,
take tea in the park there. We’ll hug the trees, laughing,
and feed his car wine and cheese if it’s not starting.
The King twists his kingsize key in the ignition,
and turns a new page in our teatime tradition.