Days In The Lime Light Poem by Buddhi Hatharaliyadda

Unless she wore her spectacles
Now rarely she can see
Those miniatures of her self
Which tells how she used to be
When she was crowned the queen
Of blockbusters in nineteen eighty.

Necklaces, bangles, tiaras
Of decorative designs
Chiffons, silks and such attire
How she dressed up to the nines.
Now auctioned; guaranteed with her fame
Her fragile heart pines.

Lady Deadlock, the stately woman
Of Dickens’s Bleak House.
Marianne the heroine; who fought
As Sherwood’s Robin’s spouse.
As charming Juliet; the passionate lover
crushes she used to arouse.

With every enact, every gaze
With her airs, graces and styles;
With every role she acted
Specially for her enchanting smiles;
Paparazzo and media tailed.
Autographs were awaited in lines.

Once the media reported
Herself as an upcoming starlet.
Next came up mud-slings
Accounting her a woman-scarlet.
It never was easy to keep on
And walk along the red carpet.

She played for others; lived in others
While her days were in the pink.
But time has gone; things have changed
At a speed of a wink.
Now she is herself; aged eighty.
Only those memories blink.