her hazel eyes
beneath the mascara lies
a pool of brine
enough to pickle a memory
to dine on past reverie

Underneath
her golden locks
beneath the curls
lies a wily old fox
that hunts with a trotting gait
and dangles smiles as her bait

Underneath
her puffy blouse
is a woman that lives to grouse
about all she can't rearrange
and a life that sees little change