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L'Artiste


begone, thou cobwebs of the dawn,
avast, vestigial of night!
come forth, terminus to my yawn,
i must, with make-up, fix this fright...

lest someone, thinking beauty fake,
opines my long reign nearly done,
cosmetic miracles I'll make
to show them all I'm still the one...

vermilion's iridescent lips,
softest touches below the eyes,
brows as dark as licorice strips,
blushing cheeks a demure surprise...

no finer piece, framed on a wall,
would dare, this art, deny its day,
a masterpiece excelling all,
a woman's will has had its way...


--H. Arlequin   

   
  
 


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copyright 1998, The Goober Tree Press, all rights reserved