Smoking a cigar she stood by the street swaying her hips , a tune on her lips
Swirling her heels in graceful abandon
She scanned the crowd for a hopeful acquaintance
The red lips she flaunted was too much a cliche
The make up had caked and the frowns wrinkled .
The kohl smudged over like spilled over wine.
The ladies shyed away as she walked down the streets
The men ogled her in all ways they could . The sagging boobs,muddy heels ,greying and balding hair lines
Some fret, some laughed at her staggering gait
"Old hag", they whispered and whistled as she slouched into the evening bar
The prime of a dancer, a singer, saw such great falls .. she loved many and many loved her but couldn't belong to any .
In search of fame and riches she remembered the days she danced with her soul and spirit . Now the empty womb s throbbing for a child who would hold her hand for one last time
Now the days gave birth to lonely nights where she sat and knit with a broken heart..
This is her story and story of many ,those roses which bloom and sway in glory and fade in pain and endless anguish.....