By Pierre Auguste Renoir
A Veiled Thread
(Creative Rhyme on Mourning Time)
Her love encased in burnished shell,
She rose and spoke to tribute tell.
She was not vain,
Nor was she plain,
Although she hid her visage well.
Clad in her little dress of black,
She lightly strode, no turning back.
Accepting flowers –
For frozen hours –
With beauty fair that failed to crack.
Her secret hid beneath her veil,
Abuses borne beyond the pale.
How very wrong
Had been his song –
O’er thirty years, she did prevail.
Soon memories of autumn loss
Did fade like so much forest moss.
Would none suspect
The clues unchecked
And vilest poison ‘neath his gloss?
Posted for a variety of prompts:
Easy Street Prompts (“little black dress”)
Heads or Tails (“autumn memory”)
Monday Poetry Train (poem/s)
One Single Impression (“creative”)
Simply Snickers (“vain”/”vein,” “veil”/”vail” and “very”)
Sunday Scribblings (“beauty”)
Weekend Wordsmith ("lighter")
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