They never looked her way,
Never understood from where she came
And digressed on the story of the grease
In her hair.
There was none.
They never touched her face,
Looked her way,
Nor saw importance in the moment
When she needed one
To hold her hand.
Or take the time for her
When it was called for.
It was the glossy brilliantine.
And the hidden styling.
The face again,
Which had the tendency to glance away.
And the hair which had no grease.
The clear hair that shone of cleanliness
In the light of the dirty windows.
The brown hair
Giving importance to the chrome
Of her eyes.
But they never looked away,
Digressing on the story of the grease
In her hair.
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Comments about this poem (Brilliantine by Sammy Edrisi )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1878 - 3 May 1916)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(22 August 1893 - 7 June 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 August 1880 – 9 November 1918)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
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