It's Good to be Queen

I'm not really sure when it began.

I mean, I can't remember any one thing

that started it...

my life as a queen.

Maybe it was because I lived with all males 

for many years.

If they didn't treat me like a queen,

it's not because I didn't try.

Maybe it's because I was the oldest of three daughters.

Isn't that how it always goes...

the eldest princess gets to become queen first.

Maybe it's because I like the idea

of being queen

much better than

being a lady-in-waiting.

I don't even like to wait.

Especially on a queen.

When that queen should be me.

Maybe it's because I love shoes.

And I'm sure that

queens own many shoes.

And purses.

Maybe it's because I like my 

younger friends to do things for me...

like hold my drink in the van,

or let me sleep on 

the most comfortable bed

when we travel.

Maybe I wanted to become queen

when I realized 

I had married a man

who did not care for frills nor fancy,

both of which I adore.

Especially if they are for me.

Maybe I've always thought it would be fun to have 
a scepter. 
I had to look up how to spell scepter.
Its an emblem of authority.
I would use it to tap on someone's head.
I won't say who.
Maybe more than one.

Queens get to talk in a certain tone.

I like that.

I spend a lot of time most every day with 

twenty-three little commoners.

They need a queen.

Really.

Also, I already have a jester

that lives with me.

So that's already covered.

I think I would look nice in a tiara.
My little princess friend has a tiara.
She should definitely share it with me
since I make her banana rainbows sometimes.

Maybe it is because I prefer being addressed as

Her Royal Highness...

I have not convinced my kingdom

of that yet.

They will come around eventually.

 So treat me no differently

than you would the queen.

Long live the queen.

And that is the end of the fairytale.

She lived happily ever after.
Until she woke up...
and had to make her own breakfast.

©2011tbowenblog