Oh! How She Wilted... Poem by Rohan Sen

Carved statuettes left uncoloured,
painted in dust by four white walls hiding misery,
sun dried flowers
and
old bottles of perfume,
stare at each other. Potpourri

Besides the window sill
grieving like a widow still,
raising a proverbial toast sardonic
breaking her cocoon catatonic
a mind aging faster than her face

Once upon a time there was a smile,
on this wretch that time hath buried,
she loved the lens
and
lullabies of mantelpiece men,
none so ceramic as the Adonis she married

From lass to liquor the lackey sidled
and her Home burnt as she Fiddled
much like Nero
Can one forgive these, two proverbial, fallen Heroes?

She clung to moonshine
as snow and drunks to shiny pavements,
her mind clouded
now unsurrounded
by the 'Who's Who' that adorned her engagements.

The stories mounted yet the mass shifted gaze,
the infidelity dropped from page to page,
after all even the stink of gutter
is news for as long as the people mutter!

The path to her gilded home in tinsel town,
it seemed was a forbidden World,
She became a play,
laughed at each day,
from four to six, at Theatres it unfurled

Suitors eye her unsightly state,
their greasy fingers on her estate,
like bridesmaids to be bequeath,
to clutch the awaiting wreath

They say Vanity is a precursor to insanity,
and her Pride was ignoble profanity