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A red door leads into
the room where she sits.
Just a faded beauty
to match her antique soul.
A white candle burns
as she watches the rain fall.
There's a jazz record playing
to keep her company.
She watches rose petals fall,
to the table as her bouqtie quietly wilts.
It makes her sad to watch them die.
Week old flowers
for the lady in the chair.
with a writers journal lying in her lap.
She lights another cigarette
watching the smoke dance in the air.
Going to the mirror
she reapplies her lipstick.
A 21 year old with the wisdom
of a woman.
A starving artist want to be.
How dramatic she smiles.
As she quotes E.A Poe,"a dream within a dream".