Masquerade

She preens and pouts
And pretends too -
Of being oblivious to how she is viewed
Her black curls let loose
Dabbed with perfume,
She sets out – with all fanfare
To woo those

Who do not seem to care.

She learns the tricks,
And wily traps -
Coy smiles and hearty laughs,
Some mad giggles help her too
In her many random rendezvous -
To win those
That she sets out to woo.

But then, there are times
When the winds blow too hard,
and take away her wild facade,
It’s then that her melancholy eyes
Give her masquerade away,
The farce too tumbles down
and the pretensions go astray.

Note: This poem was in response to a painting prompt on some forum and was written sometime in 2012. The painting, from what I vaguely remember, was of a beautiful woman dressed up in a flowing red gown, getting ready to go out.