Grace Kelly always looked so demure

when photographed in black and white,

in sepia too she looked so cool,

the perfect face to fall desperately in love with,

the woman into which dreams fall and fail.

 

Yet in colour, you are reminded of the fragility

of beauty worn, of timeless vulnerability

and the crumble down effect

of pancake dish upholstery

served up in glorious Technicolour

and stereo fitted sound.

 

The woman of the century, the great

unknown of the silver screen,

radiantly stares from lofty heights

down to the blushed tones

of my own frailty

and silently judges and smiles

seemingly straight-laced, bored

with my youthful affections

yet coy across Time

and offers me a sentimental kiss.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016