The Last Time She Wore Lipstick (Poetry)

Right up to the end she tried
to perpetuate the myth
a coat of carmine passion would
make her lips look younger
in the vainly clung-onto belief
that science had indeed achieved
a way of tricking age
with their latest secret formula.

It proved to be
her last nod to glamour —
that carefully applied satin bow
its sheer colour startling against
her parchment skin and silver hair
the spotless pillowcase so pale and plain
supporting one last image
                                brightly posed.

And that’s how they remember her —
those last visitors who came
to reassure themselves there was no hope.

Almost cheerfully she welcomed them
with a bold flirtatious (close-to-girlish) smile
that somehow made it easier
when the time came
to say a brave goodbye.