The fainting couch is somehow still a museum piece.
Tattered velvet and springs sprung
through ancient batting. Somehow
it still draws the eye, still brings to mind
romance and elegance.
You take it in. Savor the lines
and the worn perfection,
a role model for what you want to become
as you fray and falter.
About this poem
All true, only I never had particularly good lines when I was young!