Poem: The Mask

Posted On: October 18, 2010

Always a mask
Held in the slim hand whitely
Always she had a mask before her face

Truly the wrist
Holding it lightly
Fitted the task
Sometimes, however,
Was there a shiver
Fingertip quiver
Every so slightly
Holding the mask?

For years and years and years I wondered
But dared not ask
And then —
I blundered
Looked behind the mask
To find
Nothing —
She had no face

She had become
Merely a hand
Holding a mask
With grace

— Author unknown

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