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The grand madam wore double strains of opal perils, Around her collar of white lace, in eloquence personified, She’s cultures Lady of utter refinement, curtsying to noble And high brad’s aristocrats alike. In fragrances of memories I’ve drifted backwards, To a time of Lillie’s corsages tied upon white gloved Wrists, long gowns of silk that trailed behind ladies Of status and grace. Glided carriages adorned with opulence’s wealth, Lined these main streets busy thoefairs, Drawn by horse powers elect. Pulling these beguiling vessels beneath oil lamp light, Did the pampered horse flesh travel, delivering the High born royals, from fancy balls, to posh dinner Parties and the rich man’s society clubs. Gentries Gallant dapper Dan’s went a courting, Seeking beauties ungloved hands, with sweet kisses Of vows promise, yet a dowers riches blinded their Eyes, to the spoiled countesses true nature, so these Court Jesters with mouths full lies deceptions, Got their own back lashings tongue, in the end. In these arena of wealth and fortitude, did Madame So travel, amongst the crimson carpet walking With prides stride, holding her head held high, Never exposing the lower birth from which She’d been birthed. For she knew the truth hidden behind these Fanciful fans of lavender and lace lay masks Of masquerades charades, and games of Fortune were played by dollar’s gains, not The feelings of heart. True class exudes not from ones pedigree, Or families wealth and power, but instead It comes from within, honor, duty and a Soul’s valor of spirit. At the evenings final climatic hour, This mistress of the wise, seeks her humble Shafto’s warming bower, sitting in her chamber Of isolation, she smile at the portrait hanging Above her mantels fire place. Whispering slowly, soon beloved, she blows him a Final kisses farewell, then drifts into infinities Drifting realm of for-get-me-knots. Behold its Madame’s last curtain call, Let us all throw red roses at her feet, For if a lady of true elegance ever existed, On this earth of ours it was her, Madame Of lavender and white lace, let the opal Chains of perils thus be broken, as her eyes Of classes distention, close for the last and Final time BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
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