IMOGENE’S NOTEBOOK
A poem
A shattered crystal trodden down,
this icy multi-sharded crown
that once had graced a gilded gown
lies crumpled on the ground.
And how a feathered rainbow plume
that once lit up the crowded room
to toast an uncouth sullen groom,
is nowhere to be found.
Once billow-cheeked and taciturn,
allowed to wither and to burn,
a love that nature chose to spurn
has died without a sound.
Ambitions of a misspent youth
are victims now of age’s truth,
with greying hair and snaggle tooth,
all defrocked and uncrowned.