Cheers
She lived in a penthouse on Rivonia Boulevard and wore coy flowers in her hair. She enjoyed her champagne, chilled and sipped it on the roof of the Rosebank Hotel.
Her apartment was spacious, decked in the latest decor. She sported exactly six silver bracelets on her delicate arm, no less, no more.
She hated false lashes but they were all the rage. A girl was supposed to dress fake, and look half her age.
She loved to party and to be fair, she always held council at the best events of the year.
In a vacuous building, on a discrete floor she entertained admirers, galore.
But, as the days grew old and the suitors less bold, she noticed the faint crow-lines at the hint of her brow.
She invested in cream, she invested in yoga, she invested a ton in keeping herself trim.
But the penthouse was rented and the champagne cost a bomb and her face needed more fixing than the available products gave on whim.
She was lovely, she was, her accolades were sung, but the world had its way with her still.
Her awareness was blunted, and destiny won.
In a quiet, rundown apartment she held her memories close…
“Those were the days.” And she gave them a toast.
