The Transition:

She sat on her favourite bench, a small, adoring dog at her feet,

The sun soft upon her face, a strong breeze frolicking, running 

Its fingers through her hair, a golden eagle hanging in the sky.

Breathing in crystal clean Scottish air she reminisced on how

She had so often sat here with her Mama, all the long years ago

When life had been simple, or so it had seemed to her then.

She looked for the thousandth time out over the familiar hills, 

Where lay the cairns her family had positioned over the years, 

And noted the clouds rolling seemingly methodically over them, 

Abnormal clouds, dark in a way she had never seen before.

The little dog, Monty, was suddenly disturbed and she leaned 

Down to stroke him gently, murmuring soothing endearments.

When she raised her head again her astonishment was entire. 

The clouds were squatting atop them and it was almost dark!

As it filled, at the last driving out all light, she was fascinated,

And more than a little perplexed as to why she was not petrified.

Holding up her hand she examined it and found to her surprise

That she could see it perfectly, but could no longer see Monty

Who had been pressing most determinedly against her legs.

Gazing into the now not so absolute murk she saw intimations

Of distant, spiralling towers which were thrusting upward

To what appeared to be a vibrant, quite exquisite floating city

Where broad-winged, soaring inhabitants could be observed.

The blanket of gloom seemed to be lifting but what she saw

Was, of course, clearly impossible.  How could this feasibly be?

As she sat, enthralled, and deliberated rapidly, her eyes darting,

From one glorious revelation to new fantastic visions, her mouth

Slightly open with absolutely comprehensible astonishment,

She somehow did not initially notice that she had been joined

On the bench by a tall, rather gaunt, apparently ageless man.

Suddenly, then, she felt his presence and determinedly turned 

And spent some time evaluating him, as things fell into to place.

“Aren’t you meant to wear a cowl and carry a long scythe?”

He nodded slowly, appearing more than a little embarrassed.

“I am, Your Majesty, but I was told to update my image.”

She grimaced slightly. “One truly sympathises and empathises! 

One has found Oneself often obliged to be more ‘modern’

Than One finds really comfortable.  That said, perhaps it

Would be best if you did not refer to me as ‘Your Majesty’.

One has a feeling that this form of address is meaningless now.  

Please just call me Elizabeth, if that is acceptable to you.”

He nodded his agreement and unwound his gangly frame

To stand.  Softly he spoke once more. “Very well Elizabeth. 

I had been informed earlier that you would acclimatize swiftly. 

I am impressed.  That being the case, are you prepared to go?”

She stood, much more rapidly than she had anticipated.

The creaking pains from her knees and back were all gone!

It was a shame, she thought, that she had not had time to say 

Her goodbyes.  Everything was in order, though, and Charles,

Who had been so patient over the years, was more than ready.

With her usual pragmatism she brushed any regrets aside,

Took his gallantly proffered hand and climbed into the sidecar

Beside the huge motorcycle which had unexpectedly appeared.

She glanced up at him.  “More updating of your image?”

He nodded his head.  “This is by far the very finest part.”

With a grin he fired it up and revved it just for amusement.

As they set off on a divinely smooth road - a nice change! -

Which appeared to lead, straight as a die, to the floating city,

She calmly settled back in her body-hugging seat and thought,

‘Now this is going to be interesting.  What a delightful change!

It’s a shame Philip isn’t here to share in things but’, she grinned, ‘

I don’t envisage I’ll have to wait very long for him to join me!’

She relaxed and driven by a beaming Death took in the scenery.