The Faithful.

a poem by Lila Joseph, USA - poetry writer, author, poet

When doth the glow of lights grow dim
and the applause fades at the last curtain call,
when the skilful hands no longer dare
and Botox filling brings no more win,
will you my lady still be mine?

Will then your conversation still scintillate
or be filled with pauses that break too late,
will my hungry fingers still caress your face
when skin feels so dead as aspic paste,
will I my lady still be thine?

Today you shine as a sparkling star
and the sea of hands assaults your eyes
their praises are heard on every side
my loving face you cannot abide,
but my lady I will be thine!

Know still my lady and heed my words
that this will pass as will your youth
and when an oven no comfort doth bring
because liposuction was your kith and kin,
then shall my lady my warmth be thine!



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