Her Majesty’s Alabaster Chair

In my house there is this chair,

A solid, rock hard throne.

Whenever I am ensconced there

I’m greeted with a constant drone,

Echoing without cessation.

A contented and expectant tone,

Demanding my attention.
It resonates in my jaw bone

Insisting on affection.

Some find it quite amusing

To watch the Royal March

Head held high, parading

Tail upright, stiff as starch

Past her throne another’s using!

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