The pale figure.
Walked past the pensioners in red.
The white, a dot all that way ahead,
I thought red and white were unlucky?
Reminding one of bloody white bandages and war dead?
Her white was white.
On the telly later it was clearly speckled with gold and silver threads.

She was as ram rod straight as a bent, proud old lady can be.
Eyes fixed firmly in duty.
Gloved hand gripping her black shiny handbag.
It rained.
And the wind blew.
But still she stood looking straight ahead.

The throngs were enthralled.
For them it was wet bbqs, a few extra drinks and time in bed.
For her it was 60 years as a Queen.