A Woman of Thirty by Marjorie Allen Seiffert
page 81 of 85 (95%)
page 81 of 85 (95%)
|
Left her bed--
Lolita thought she was young. With ancient finery on her back, A lace mantilla hiding her grey head, She crept into the warm and alien night. Her trembling knees remembered the languid pace Of beauty on adventure bent--her fan Waved challenges with unforgotten grace. Cunningly she played her part For to her peering age Love was a well-remembered art. Footsteps followed her--footsteps drew near! She dropped a rose--hush, he is here! There came hard arms and a panting kiss-- He felt the fraud of those withered lips, He cursed and spat--"Was it for this, You came, old woman, to the park?" Lolita gathered skirts and fled Through the dim dark. Lolita huddles her shawl against the cold, She sits and mumbles by the fire. In truth Lolita knows she is old. The Shining Bird |
|