Ancient Bloom
I am a tomb of ancient bloom.
I was young once, and pretty.
Now that I am of middle age,
and beauty fades, I must adjust.
To being unseen, no beauty queen.
I must not dance or prance about.
Although inside I dance still.
No one sees the pretty me.
I am a tomb, must I mummify?
Damn it all, I refuse to die.
Still slip on my dancing shoes.
Close my eyes, get in the groove.
Imagine all eyes still upon me.
This acient bloom won't go soon.
Copyright © Jean Murray | Year Posted 2016
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