Illusions of past

Faded flipside of placate living,

Clandestine artiste of the Spanish masquerade

The unspeakable speaker of the territory

She stood in between three tall mirrors

Sparkling her drift to the spectators.

Once all the eyes gaped at her splendor

The vivacious talks and magnificent lips

Dominated hearts and domain from far

The intrinsic long curls arched scores of men

And the enthralling looks killed many souls.

She was the incandescent princess of grit

Of malleable hands and extended pledge

The unattached soul of inaccessible galaxy

Still the impossible beauty is breathing

Inside her coffin with sighs of her day,

Yes she’s still dynamic in her present

Under the multihued fascinating mask

But sadly cannot recognize her past verve.

In love with the mask.