The Age of Beauty

the clink of beauty

Preening into her hand-held mirror

frowning, lost utterly in self:

beauty, shimmering and taut

While in the crook of her arm,

blinking and touching his

reflection, lips curved

in pleasurable disbelief

a baby’s first look at self-

‘booty’ must be the thought.

Plucking that stubborn strand of grey,

a valiant attempt

at beauty slipping just out of reach.

Clinking glass-bangles held up,

angled and glittery,

a twinkle of beauty in her eyes.

Fondly gazing at her

dressing up in a hurry:

beauty, it is too, for him,

Absently pushing his glasses up

while his hand brushed a shock of  hair that was,

out of soft brown eyes

beauty,present in the absent manner

of its owner.

Starched and stiff,

an inviting rustle as she

lumbered about, beauty

polished to a fade.

Glimpses all, into the age of beauty.

About rashmenon

Hello there! Please look up-
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