Dedicated to a woman who is many different things to different people, who elicits different emotions from different people, a woman ever present for 60 years.

Who is this woman,
Who’s face I see everyday,
on coins of gold silver and bronze,
on paper notes of red and green,
To some a malign despot,
to others a benign queen.
Who is this woman,
who’s face as familiar as my mother’s,
this mother, grandmother, wife, lover,
A master striving to serve.
Maybe she’s all of us,
maybe she’s none of us,
so while the buntings raised,
boats sail, some people sing in praise,
Who is she, I ask myself,
This lady who stares up at me?


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