She delects being on stage
after the show
when no audience is there to acclame
she shuffles her unmarked cards
even when there’s no go
and disregards
whispers on being insane

Her worlds opens in fantasy
filling up the void
as she lives fully
leaving imprints on celluloid
to roll back on certain days
and laugh of her ways
that carves her personnality

She delights at the sight
of a blossomed rose
and cries when she must fight
to release pains that froze
will some of you
see her through
even when she’s not right

She’s the velvet lady
desperately wanting to be
everything, anything
in the arms
of an untouchable man of charm
on whom she has a thing
a love thing

Copyright ©2006 Johanne Farmer