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Pedestal for a Pedestrian

Oh how I gaze upon thee

Lovingly, hands clasped in prayer

Down on my knees

My lips O open

Murmuring a silent plea

Oh how I long to be

A tress of your beauty

A fingertip of your kindness

A whisper of your decree

Why is it?

Each day 

a new Yeoman god

Perched upon my pillar of pining

Who are you?

For how long have I 

Switch, swap, substitute

Another pair of 

Well-worn boots


on my day to day dais

Oh how I wish to see

Atop my socle 

it’s always a princess of

The bourgeoisie

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