It was all her fault she

Told herself, leaning

Towards the lighted

Mirror to put on her 

Makeup, taking special

Care, first the slightly

Undercooked pot roast

Served at dinner, then

Turning on the noisy

Diswasher while the big

Game was on the TV,

She took one last look

In the full length mirror,

Dress curving high on

Her neck, long sleeves,

Falling loosely about

Ankles strapped into

Stilleto heels, gray-blue

Eyes stared at her image,

Concealor hid the black,

He should be pleased.

By Gail Constable

From: Canada

Instagram: witch_of_words1955