All About Eve

All About Eve – a quiet love‑letter to destiny,
To the woman who masquerades beneath bright stage light,
Her fingers trace the script as ink bleeds in her dream—
In every wink, the question hides, “Who will win the fight?”

Eve’s eyes, deep‑set, spy the carved‑wood places of the house,
She drapes her silence in a shawl of whispered doubt;
A whispering wind, a British tea‑pot steadies,
And the flicker of a film screen shows the strangers she won’t shout.

The clapperboard echoes in a smoky London fog,
The reflections on the soaring, losing glass—
She’s a candle burnt from one day’s bright dialogue,
Then shade turns to night and she is the truth, the flash.

The irony of fame in every corner we dwell:
A gentle, self‑made script written in a scrabble of thoughts,
We watch Eve, we chase her mind, we want to hold the spell,
Yet only those who stay, feel how bittersweet the cost.

So let the curtain rise on Eve’s endless hope,
Her dance of ambition, a waltz of ambition, In the theatre of dreams on a star‑lit slope—
With stars in the sky and a whisper of “All‑About‑Eve” in every movement.