March Poetry Challenge (3rd March, 2013)

Once more, with feeling …

There was an air there

In that little room,
Almost tangible,
Of despair and gloom.

The stark light of the bulbs

Washed out her face
Exaggerated, perhaps,
By the chiffon and lace.

Around her hung the decorations

Of a thousand other days
Sequins, feathers, beads,
That once reflected the suns rays.

For the last time those eyes looked out

At the mask she had to fit,
The war paint she must apply,
To get through this last bit.

Slowly now she reached out

With an old and trembling hand
To pick up the slender brush
Which transported her to another land.

The colours seem more muted,

As though robbed of their hue;
They would never have the vibrancy
That they did when her skin was new.
 
Each tender stoke transformed her,
Though not as it once did,
For there was more of her showing through
And less of her was hid.

The final touches having been applied

For one final curtain call;
One last appearance,
Once more bell of the ball.