Striking face, challenging me to peer deeper,
Blue-Grey eyes, intrigued, looking for the window.
Dark circles neath the eyes, filled with times that departs,
A smile that briefly rises, then disappears.
The skin is aging, yet wrinkles are few,
An occasional crease revealing experiences had.
Some are of laughter, the lightness of life,
Some are the worry, the stress, the plight.
Behind the facade a little girl lies peeking,
From the edges of a petticoat, she peering.
She likes to dance and whirls without speaking,
Elvis is alive, the beat and strum, her feet moving.
The glamour of life does nothing to enrich her living,
The plainness of dress reveals comfort takes precedence.
The shapely legs and body, the softness of curve,
Here lives a human, a girl of this world.