November 11, 2011
Fists clench and fingernails prick
As ribbons slash her back in licks.
Pink blossoms sweep her pretty face,
Her neck is clothed in lapis and lace.

Her heart quickens as amber and gold
Come together in silky folds
To fall softly over hooped hips
As a maid-servant paints her lips.

A bow is tied tightly at her back,
Loveliness tonight she shall not lack.
From tip to toe is her flawless beauty,
To it maintain is her servant's duty.

Her eyes are rimmed with dusty charcoal,
Soft slippers adorn each foot's sole.
Her hair is piled high on her head,
As studs in her ears glow an angry red.

She descends the staircase with care
To meet the men she has deemed fair.
They reach her, entranced by her smirk
Each praying he shall not be shirked.

Two blooms she takes: one lily, one rose,
And lifts them to her powdered nose.
The petals fly off on the evening breeze
As a curtsey befalls her dainty knees.

The spring of Eighteen Sixty-Four,
Has never come and gone before,
But now it shall, and it she'll miss,
For with it goes her girlish bliss.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback