A Crimson Masquerade
A crimson masquerade she delicately made and as the twilight
began to fade, she was grateful he stayed.
Ebony hair with plumb brows to match,
a flutter on her shoulder for the angel’s ball-
Take a photograph of beauty, and you shall see me…
though I may fall…you, my love,
-I shall call.
Ruby lip color with black lace around her nape,
similar pale barren skin on her cheek does enthrall-
take a photograph of beauty, and you shall believe me,
Though I may stumble, and my life crumble…you,
-I shall call.
Long lashes of darkness and hazel-honeyed eyes that glow,
ears of perfect symmetry, oh don’t limit me when I stall,
Take a photograph of beauty, and you shall retrieve me,
though I may slip, and purposely trip, on you my love,
-I shall fall.
A crimson masquerade, on the stage she played just a lady of fair with no one to care. An actress in the making, and all her love forsaking as the curtain closes she sees that no one is there. For life is not fair when you stumble and fall...
but on you my love,
-I shall call.
January 24, 2017
|