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Click hereThey called her pretty Annie then. She knew
her wishes and they all came true
until the gloss wore off. A formidable woman,
she could pay her way
and travel far and wide to kill the time,
fulfil her every whim yet found
as the long years grew longer
she dropped behind the track.
Like a forgotten violin's her tune
grew shrill until it cracked -
the broken body's polish now
beneath a layer of dust, embedded in
green velvet, grey with mould, left to itself
atop the bookcase. Callers seldom came,
and when they did they softly shook their heads
at the decline they saw, politely hiding
any feelings that they had -
while in the inmost regions of her mind
she thought of how
they used to call her pretty Annie.
Neat trick with "violin's."
Mixed feelings about the last 3 lines. Of course, excluding them would have changed the poem, perhaps more to my liking if not yours.
"They called her pretty Annie then. She knew
her wishes and they all came true
until the gloss wore off."
Five.
good
green velvet, grey with mould, left to itself
not so
while in the inmost regions of her mind
the violin motif excellent
but crashes to an over used end
despite what I just said. one of the better ones, but we all know that 5ed
With Oneiria. Even when it comes from within, through older skin, beauty is still beauty and has much to do with the woman's own attitude. Nicely done Demure