THE PAINTED GIRL
In the day,
She remains still,
A painted girl behind glass,
Her admirer yearning from afar,
Lost in a wishful trance
It was the summer of ‘82
Bryan,
Heartbroken,
took to the road, on his motorcycle,
feeling blue,
He glimpsed her,
The mannequin bold
Through the glass,
He caught a sight,
Red circled glasses,
Sequenced gown aglow,
With permed hair,
a striking height,
And the colour of the ember,
Her painted face,
A vibrant show
As night descended,
He returned,
To the glass,
Where dreams unfold,
She moved,
A dance,
His heart churned,
In jazz’s embrace,
The story told
Seeking entrance to the Super – Mall,
Breathless,
He chased the fleeting chance,
To dance with her until morning call,
Lost in a Painted Romance
Morning found him,
Paint-stained,
dazed,
On the floor,
Alone,
No mannequin nearby,
Was she real or just a dream he chased?
In the mystery,
The truth disappears.
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Featured image credits to PixelParlour2345 on Pixabay
