Image: Jeff Simpson
They said she was a level-headed dancer
Given to exaggeration and deceit.
Aloof and indecisive
a woman of mystery
a puzzle to us all.
She spun us tales of wonder
Of expeditions and exploits
She liked nothing better
Than a crowd of adoring fans.
Her dress was all pretence
The black she wore for show
She didn’t know nor understand
Such things as grief or social mores.
She sat upon a plastic throne
With a pretend crown and a false hope
That her people would love her
For all the love, she never gave back.
They spurned her and spread rumour
Most of it true, they simply magnified each fact
To embellish the painful truth.