She was like art still and silent
Beauty in the water, like a mirror
The essence of her shone from the
Halogen lights above.
She was like a picture, motionless
But still, her brushstrokes were
Grace upon skin, her moment
Was in this place, pictures taken
Of her pose of her posture frozen
in this place.
She was a beauty in the bath tub,
Her face in this lake of red, hiding
The deed, buried in temped water,
No longer pure, tainted by a final
Motion, claiming a last breath.
She was a beauty of refined allure,
But now her crimson glistened, refracted
Upon the light shining down a rainbow
Of shaded reds now greets all through
The heaven white doors.
She is the bath tub beauty now dead..
