Wandia

In a world of mirrors, Wandia stood,

A lady of grace, in a curious mood.

Her reflection unveiled a mystery rare,

As she pondered the secrets concealed in the air.

With a brush in her hand, she delved into lore,

Women adorned faces, a ritual to explore.

Colors danced on skin, like a painter's embrace,

A symphony of beauty, transforming each face.

Yet Wandia wondered, in the quiet of thought,

If men too wore makeup, not in colors sought.

A realization struck, like a gentle tap,

Men painted their triumphs on life's unwritten map.

Their accomplishments adorned like a mask,

A subtle veneer, a challenging task.

With each achievement, a stroke bold,

A narrative crafted, a story to be told.

Wandia smiled, for in this revelation,

She saw the artistry of human creation.

On faces and feats, makeup was found,

A canvas of life, where stories abound.