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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.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

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Date: 11/8/2016 4:54:00 AM
Roses come to go, leaving its residual dreams ... it is a peace to live in those dreams as much as possible ... yours is a very well written poem ...
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Date: 11/8/2016 5:19:00 AM
Thanks Probir.