The Vanishing Star

Languishing roses in her vase Love is but an antiquated sentiment As her youth has faded. Fame is wasted on the famous. This much she knows now. The glitter. The razzle and dazzle All made a vanishing act. The ghost of her star remains. She looks in the reflective glass And finds a new line deeper than pain In her forehead. The stray greys shoot from her hair In winding coils. Once she took care of her greys With a bottle of scarlet dye. Not today. Today, she takes a drag from her cigarette And wears a long gown with faded roses Once in crimson blooms. Not even Jesus can restore her fading star. So she resigns to her destiny And relaxes back to her velvet chair The only piece of furniture in her once grand Now almost derelict mansion That still provides comfort for her aching bones. She closes her eyes and drifts into a deep sleep. Sweet dreams of her youth flood her still.