It was where
she placed her lipstick, of carmine ruby red,
Her jewel encrusted
comb, that neatened her gold head,
The small mirrored
compact, to powder her small pert nose,
And lace embroidered
hanky, perfumed in musk & dusky rose.
It once belonged
to Grandmamma, this golden evening bag,
Holding her
memories & belongings, with gilded lips gagged,
Clasped closed
& holding secrets, of opportunities now missed,
Within dreams
she takes her bag, over be-gloved & delicate wrist.
No comments:
Post a Comment