BOUTIQUE MANNEQUIN

Such perfection is bizarre
when there is no life within

those artificial boundaries
of plate glass and pretty lace.

Endless Moons cannot age her,
nor bless her with fertility.

And yet she has an aura -
a spell within her smile

that snares the eye and mind:
you have to pause and look...

and how easily you're swayed
by this rigor mortis babe

into picturing yourself
standing there in her place,

transformed by over-priced attire
into a Goddess, flawless as she.

Harsh midday Sun
highlights a sculptural face

that betrays not the slightest hint
of wrinkle nor expression line.

Oh to step beyond the glass
into this glamorous world

of the make-believe beauty
dressed for a summer ball...

who can never play with a mobile phone;
enjoy an Indian takeaway;

go swimming on a Saturday;
or know how it feels to love.



An unearthly stillness envelopes you then,
as you notice her soulless eyes

and the dust that's begun to gather
on immobile corpse-like limbs.

Now wearing shimmering satin
has suddenly lost it's appeal,

for it brings to mind a burial shroud,
colourless, like a ghost.


Just sufficient battery to post this...will get back to you all on Monday!
Have a great weekend. :)