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Vanishing Act



In youth's vibrant spotlight, she dazzled bright,

An iridescent star, a radiant sight.

But Time, that quiet sculptor, had its way,

Painting lines where laughter used to play.


Her charm, once a mosaic woven in gold,

Faded with stories seldom retold.

As years spun their threads, she slipped from view,

A silent script the world scarcely knew.


In society's mirror, her image grew faint,

Her voice a whisper, a quiet plaint.

Her wisdom overlooked, her spirit unseen,

A treasure trove lost, a forgotten queen.


Her steps, a ballet in life's grand parade,

Now danced alone, in shadows they fade.

The sparkle in her eyes, once full of grace,

Dimmed in a world that raced its pace.


Yet within her beats an unwavering flame,

A universe of stories without a name.

Though veiled by the shroud of time's sheer hue,

Her existence etched in each step she drew.


So listen closely, for her whispers are wise,

An anthology written in her eyes.

For though the world may cast her as unseen,

She's a masterpiece, a beauty serene.


In the dance of life, where appearances blur,

She's a mosaic, a shimmer that endures.

The invisible woman, a silent art,

A symphony of strength, a beating heart.

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