writing_shadows

A lady in a gaudy world
    She walks in elegance sublime,
In spite of every torrid whirl
    Of sleaze, past sorry pantomimes
And shows, and keeps her colours furled;
    Enough to know her place and time.

As sharp as cider, honey-dark,
    A sweetness to her steeled heart,
Driving swiftly, a hunting shark,
    Seeking the path, to play her part,
Aloof, controlled, the apple mark
    Her badge, her veil, her sign of art.

With silver tongue and perfect voice
    She shapes a tale both false and true,
A tale in which her noble choice
    Delivers to her all her due.
Companionship and mortal joys,
    Not missed, unwanted through and through.

She hides her passion, buries deep
    Desires not for public show.
A solitude serene she keeps,
    Her sorrows, like grass under snow,
Far out of sight do seem to sleep,
    But e'en in darkness stir and grow.