Tradition bound  post modern woman

 When penury draws the boundary line,

What is mascara, or  the  eyeliner?

The  flicker  of  the  candle

Tapers  into  nothing  and total  dim.

She  sees  the  golden  ribbons    and

Jazzing   bands  on the  pictures,

hanging  on the  walls  besmeared

with  cobwebs, still   a  Victorian

romantic  sentiment  preserved.

A pair of shoulders  not  strong  and  

Sturdy: yet  willed  into  hard  labour

By determination   and necessity.

No  perfume on her  skin, but

Long petticoat   to hide  her 

Snowy, delicate   Feet    and  skin.

A star  and  stud  on her  ears

Shining  with  the   glow  chin.

Lemon  rice  and   buttermilk 

In  a bowl  are her luxury.

Her  lovely mind   and

amiable  Nature, her asset.