The Belated Bow..

Fearing blemishes on her skin,
Telling herself beauty lies within,
She vowed, on an impulse,
Polished surfaces merited her repulse.
Her first recourse was the decorated veil
- till she got wise to troubles, it did entail;
Wary of glass, Alert to steel,
She'd tiptoe, or part with her stiletto heel;
At times, crawling under the window sills,
At others, protected by her friends' frills,
She moved through the town,
Feeling her smile turn into a frown
- as men took their hats off in homage,
Making her curiosity hard to manage.
At first, she let herself sneak a peek
- of her chin and the right cheek;
Nudged again by her urge,
Submitting herself to the scourge,
She discerned her left cheek and the lips,
Whilst despising her own resolve's slips.
With the days grew her temptation,
Tried, yet untempered by the self-damnation;
Having lost the battles and the will for war,
She yielded to a glimpse, albeit, from afar;
Exultant, she bowed in grace,
Belatedly, to the tributes to her radiant face.