In a masquerade of 286
she wears satin - flawless white.
Glass slippers, a silver mask
That glow in simple candle light.
Saucy, eloquent lady-talk
She flips her fan in style
They walk and talk and so does she
Enchant, reject, mesmerize!
But angels looked for the naked soul,
Perched they were on the chandeliers
“Where could it be?” they whispered low
“How could it have disappeared?”
They peeked through keyholes
And pulled at masks
The music got louder
Complex and bland.
The soul was gone.
And the angels were sad.
