Frail and OldA Poem by Floating on the feathers of a dandelion
Clasping with frail fingers, An old silver hand-mirror, The sides of the glass blurred with jaded green, With beautifully sculpted angels perched on the rim, Angels still so young and so adorable, They make this senile body jealous. Timidly do I bring the reflection closer, Scared to look at time’s diabolic creativity, Lines, that have taken ages to emerge so conspicuously, I stare at the rotten face in the old mirror and scrutinize, The layers of foundation on the sagging face To hide the lines of age. Strokes of rouge on the skin, Hanging loose on the cheek bones. The red lipstick on the chapped pale blue lips. Mascara on the almost invisible lashes. Eye shadow on the lid to conceal the thin green lines. Perfectly combed little remains guarded by my pretty blue hat. I stare and I wonder “Would you have loved me the same?” I really don’t know!! “But I still crave for you the same.”
© 2008 Floating on the feathers of a dandelionFeatured Review
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45 Reviews Added on February 7, 2008 AuthorFloating on the feathers of a dandelionUnderneath blueeeeeeeeee sky, IndiaAboutHmmm.... About me ?!?!? I am what i would have wanted myself to be, i am a butterfly when i want to tickle the flowers, i am a bird when i want to compete with the flecks of cotton, i am the river whe.. more..Writing
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