Beauty In Ruins (Poetry)

Beauty’s ghost was there
in the high brow line
and silvering hair
that echoed a time
the screen found her fair

The bloom-haunted skin
now withered and pale
while lips have drawn thin
age whispers a tale
as tragic as sin

Yet the spirit’s flame
gleams blue in her eyes
unfailing and sane
though cream can’t disguise
the weathering pain

The tower of flesh
held slender and tall
flamboyantly dressed
that last curtain call
cued roses and rest

A ruinous plot
of Nature’s to steal
and ruthlessly rot
Youth’s fragile appeal
Cruel age hogs the spot