Anna Q

Upon a set where shadows play, she sits, A swan in sapphire draped, and pearls alight, Not silver screen, but canvas, now transmits The pensive grace of silent star, Anna Q.

No ruby lips in dialogue unsheathed, Yet brows, like crescent moons, a story weave, Of dreams on celluloid, unspoken breathed, A silent language beauty's eyes receive.

Her fingers, laced upon a silken knee, Hold secrets whispered when the cameras sleep, Of love and loss, of destiny set free, In flickering frames where shadows laugh and weep.

So let the canvas hold her timeless grace, A silent muse, in contemplation's embrace, For Lily of the Laundry, ever fair, Blooms on in dreams, beyond the silvered screen.