The 12 inch heel, the confident gait, The measured steps, the sudden halt, The blush on cheeks, the smoldering eyes, The hands on hips, head held high, The silken gown, barely there, A tilt of neck, balanced well, The sultry glance, timed right, Perfect half twirl, played twice, With a graceful swirl, she turns back. The world looks on with stolen breath, Oohs, aahs, applauds, encores. The showstopper’s yesterday, Now hangs in a gallery, Fading parchment, guarded unnecessarily. No shadows of glamour come a-chasing, For vacant eyes and sagging skin, For shattering illusions, hanging questions, Am I never going back? Linking with The Mag : Mag 147 Linking with Write on Edge : The Red Writing Hood - The Gallery Linking with My blog can beat up your blog : 100 Word Song : Never going back to Ok Linking with The Velvet Verbosity : 100 Words - Breath
Nice juxtaposition of the natural and the manmade. I especially like the image in the last line.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for such kind words
DeleteWelfare unto all
Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗
For some reason this reminded me a little of red riding hood, only the path is the road and the wolf is the unknown of the city.
ReplyDeleteI am so honored to hear such inspiring words.. To be compared to biggest folklore is super amazing.. Thank you so much.
DeleteGod bless 🙏🙏🙏
This is paints a nice picture. I thought of red riding hood also.
ReplyDeleteIt is really such an amazing feeling to hear such kind words. Thank you so much.
DeleteGod bless 🙏🙏
A great poem. It reminded me of little red riding hood.
ReplyDeleteThank you once again.
ReplyDeleteGod bless 🙏 🙏 🙏