In scarlet dreams, where spotlights softly paint,
A crimson flame against the charcoal drape,
Clara Bow, with lips of Cupid's taunt,
A whisper-smile, like secrets on escape.
Her hair, a phoenix rising from the night,
A sculpted fire against the ivory moon,
A glint of sass, a whisper held alight,
A timeless wonder, captured in a swoon.
Upon a stool, in lace's cobweb snare,
She reigns, a queen of smoke and mirrored grace,
The camera's eye, a lover's tender stare,
Reflected in the depths of her sly chase.
So let the sonnet's brushstrokes, faint and slow,
Forever hold her, where the shadows glow.