Later Dame Olympia

The gaunt Dame Olympia, sparse the fire, flames for it
Musty flowers, fake forevers, they never even cared
The graceful Ms Olympia, tried and tested, none to spare
The towers, rooms, the boudoir wares, places she could curl her hair

In her gait, there never was a swing
In her stroll, there never was a beat, or snap

Around her finger, a fat man sat
Both his hands, then took her hat, and placed it on the chair

Stale air of endless nights, becoming what she thought could be avoided.
Laughter bitter, kindness light. Understanding how one could be jaded, then faded

Can she open windows, prefer to suffocate?